


The Wife Project By: Professor Alexandria Woods

by 11ThisIsMe04



Category: The 100 (TV), clexa - Fandom
Genre: Awkward, Clexa, Confusion, Determination, F/F, F/M, Genius brunette, History, Humor, Love, Love search, Persistence, Questionnaire, Research, Romance, Speed Dating, emotionally - detached, incompatible, scientist, secret, smart blonde
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-06-08 08:44:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 100,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6847582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/11ThisIsMe04/pseuds/11ThisIsMe04
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love isn't exactly science but no one told Alexandria Woods a.k.a. Lexa. A beautiful, attractive and incredibly smart - 34 years old researcher/history enthusiast, Lexa's NEVER had a second date and she had no idea why. So she devices The Wife Project, a scientific test to find the PERFECT partner. </p><p>Enter Clarke Griffin - 'the world's most incompatible woman' - throwing Lexa's safe, ordered life into chaos. </p><p>Just what IS this unsettling, alien emotion she's feeling?</p><p>A.K.A.: A story about an emotionally-detached brunette who tries to find love through scientific experiments but is this enough to find true love? Will her genius plan help her find 'THE ONE'? And how will she react, when the most incompatible candidate, 'the blonde with big tits' came into her life? Just how chaotic will it end? </p><p>THE WIFE PROJECT by: Professor Alexandria Woods</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Wife Project

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a beta test. I want to test out if this story is gonna sell. It's an adaptation from one of my favorite stories. 
> 
> This is the part where Lexa landed herself in devising a scientific research The Wife Project to find the perfect partner. How will her friends react to it. Let's find out!

I have found the solution to my problem. I have found the key to embark on a project that had been long overdue and with numerous attempts of constant defilement - most in particular by Raven and Octavia, I was forced - but obliged - to embark on a search.

_The Wife Project._

As with many scientific breakthroughs, the answer was obvious in retrospect. But had it been for many unscheduled events - due to Raven's persistence I was duty-bound to give a lecture on the History of the 13 Clans. If it weren't for the untimely manner of series of events and my friend's constant banter, it is unlikely I wouldn't have discovered it.

The following series of events was caused by Raven Reyes, as I have mentioned, it is a lecture that she was initially committed to but then withdrawn due to some unforeseen circumstances. Therefore, I was to replace her and deliver it myself. It is not my expertise for I am a research scientist however, having known that my fascination with history was well accounted for by Raven - I was, hence, suitable.

"It wouldn't be a problem, Lexa," Raven said, munching on her apple, "it's bunch of 11 and 12 years olds anyway. They're visiting for the day. "

"Children," I stared at her depicting a blank look, "you are asking me to lecture about the history of the 13 clans on a group of elementary school students."

"Yes," she nodded ever so happily, "Lexa, I'm a mechanical engineer professor and we both know we both share our love for history but it just so happened that I can't do it due to some _unforeseen circumstances_. I owe a friend a big favor. So please?"

I was extremely annoyed by the sudden turn of event. Had I known that I will be lecturing  _children_ , I would have backed out. However, Raven, as persistent as she is, have a solution. 

"They have a guardians, Lexa." She said, giving me that eye roll. "Just ask one of the guardians to settle the little rascals. There! Problem solved!"

Problem solved? Oh dear Lord. Among this sudden events the time for preparation was timely-shared with my daily routines. My lunch was disrupted and my house spring cleaning was cut short by initial 97 minutes, to now, 64 minutes. Which also equivalent to not cleaning my bathroom at the designated time.

I was faced with three options and none of them were satisfactory:

  1. Cleaning the bathroom after the lecture which will end at exactly 5.15pm. I have designated exactly 45 minutes for the lecture alone, not including the pre-set up and question and answer portion. Moreover, this will overlap with my gym schedule and with lack of exercise, which in therefore, affects mental and physical performance.
  2. Rescheduling the bathroom cleaning to the next available slot, Friday, will be a compromised bathroom hygiene and great risk for disease.
  3. Withdrawal from the lecture will eventually risk a shaky relationship with Raven.



I presented the dilemma to Raven in a point form powerpoint slide, who, being her self-proclaimed 'genius' and 'solution crackhead', had offered solutions.

"I can give you Wick's number  _and_ I'll even pay for the services," Raven offered, showing me the cleaner's personal number.

I explained to Raven - repeatedly - that no cleaner can clean my bathroom unless it's the Trikru lady with a very respectable self-invented toilet bowl cleaner. The 'Wick' cleaner that Raven had offered had suddenly disappeared which later on followed by a series of Raven and Octavia arguments. Up to this point I was still clueless as to what happened.

"I will give you his number," hastily snatching my phone from the table and punched in the number, "just don't mention me."

"What if he asks? How can I answer him without mentioning you?"

Raven shrugs, how she always does when plotting an idea, "just say you got it from an agency and when he asks for me just say nothing."

Raven Reyes had strike again with her endless solutions to social problems, which I find the outcome to be extremely satisfactory. Wick will enjoy 33 minutes illustrating his bathroom cleaning capabilities in which Raven, with an extremely annoying mannerism of hers waggling her eyebrows suggestively, had mentioned  _highly_ entertaining. I do not come to a conclusion why watching a cleaner cleaning a bathroom be  _highly entertaining._

"I don't even know why I try with you, Lexa."

////

It was revealed to me that the reason why Raven Reyes was not able to commit for the lecture was because of a Thailand engineer, who came to Polis for a visit, and she had the chance to 'hangout' with the guy talking entirely about mechanics of cars and indubitably, casual sex. Which to Raven's on growing lists of nationalities piling up on her book of 'Raven Reyes' Mechanical Manual' was highly appeasing for her.

As a mechanical professor herself, She have a strong interest on different nationalities and with kind of mechanical expertise they offer and combining those two gave birth to the Mechanical Manual which Raven deeply fond of.

Having known Raven Reyes for the past two years, it had been a series of - according to her - 'roller coaster' ride. I have took the term and ponder on its meaning of going up and down on a roller coaster ride which can be scary and yet, exhilarating and therefore, I have come to terms with it. Which Raven blatantly rolled her eyes, after 12 hours of doing research and experiencing the ride myself, I presented to her my findings.

"You're such a geek, Woods," Raven rolled her eyes and pushed down my personal video of riding the roller coaster with a danger of losing my phone in the process. However, I took the risk to show her my compliances that she eagerly pushed aside and mentioned, "stop putting everything to a test. Life is more than experiments, Lexa. Have fun and cut loose! How are you gonna find a wife if you kept pushing the matter aside."

"The roller coaster was fun," I pointed out, opening again my laptop but she abashedly took it away from my hands, "I am not pushing the matter aside, Raven. I am definitely looking into it through research. I had spent the last 3 weeks formulating a good project and I think it's highly plausible to get a definite result." I felt my eyes widens by the excitement that I was feeling for the wife project.

Raven wasn't so fond about the project although, she was civil about it. I wasn't asking her or anyone's permission but ever since she became my colleague and her persistence in eventually inviting me to her house and have dinner with her best friend. I was obligated to perform other kinds of friendship rituals, resulting in a social relationship and meeting a new person, Octavia Blake. Who was a sports enthusiast and do random jobs for the national soccer association in the country, Octavia was a very proud of it. She was entertaining and receptive at the conversation that was held on the table and soon, became a friend. Making a total of two friends.

Raven and Octavia were helpful and responsive to queries about the Wife Project. Unfortunately, their idea of dating was based on the traditional dating paradigm, in which I have abandoned due to many failed attempts and negative experiences. I am 34 years old, tall, fit and highly intelligent - which uncanny enough people find distasteful - with a relatively high status and above average income as a researcher and part time professor and a very proud member of LGBT community. Logically, I should be attractive to many wide range of women. In the animal kingdom, I would succeed in getting mates in every land.

However, there is something about me that women or technically,  _anyone_ find unappealing. I have never find it easy to make friends, and as it seems the deficiency on this problem had led to many failed attempts at romantic relationships. The Rat Barbecue Disaster was a great example of this.

Octavia had introduced me to one of her many friends. Whom she describes to be highly intelligent, with a small deformity on her hand - due to mother's negligence. I had mentioned the hand because Octavia showed me a picture of her and asked if it was okay.

"People tend to sway away from her once they saw her hand but she's always been positive and never look at her disability as a disadvantage."

Brave, I should add that to the list of characteristics.

"She has a very firm ideas," which further elaborated by Octavia, "she doesn't wanna appear weak or useless because of her hand. Are you okay with that?"

This is the world that I have to live in. Where people judge others due to their disabilities and not what they are on the inside. Unbelievable!

"Yes."

So we met at the Chinese Restaurant. A place where social inept like me can have difficulties at. My palms were perspiring and I was nervous as I was expecting myself to be. Fortunately, we got off to a good start that we've arrived at the precise time 7pm because if she's late, I doubt a relationship will ever form. Poor time management is a waste of time.

We survived the meal with her not pointing out my poor social skills. It is difficult to conduct a conversation, critically thinking where you should be looking at. Raven advised me that to keep looking at her eyes and not the hand, which is understandable. People with deformities can be rather self-conscious about their disabilities. I found it quite a challenge having to look at her in the eyes and then looks down on my food, without catching a glance of her hand. This resulted in the inaccuracy in the eating process but I didn't think she noticed. On the contrary, we had a very interesting discussion about history. She was so fascinating that I could see a potential permanent relationship.

An hour had passed, the waiter brought in the dessert menu but Emori had a better idea. "why don't we eat dessert some other place?"

I may have found this a chance for me to get out of the minefield restaurant for socially awkward like myself. So I took the opportunity and asked where she would want to eat dessert at.

"The Polis Market," Emori replied, seeing those brown eyes glimmering in excitement.

I should have taken it as a warning sign but it wasn't known to me until we've reached the market where vast of stalls showcasing their great varieties of food.  _Very unique_ food, may I add. We approached this one stall with a friendly lady owner listing down what she have on her cart.

"One rat barbecue, please," Emori ordered and I simply stared at her. It must have been of disgust because she asked why, "why are you looking at me like you were disgusted by me?"

"Rat barbecue." I cleared out, not wanting her to think that I was pointing out on her hand.

"Oh you should try it. Here," Emori tore a flesh from the stick and gave me with her bare hand, the normal hand.

I stared at it again, "Um no thank you. I'm still full."

I may have a social error in that sentence somewhere because the outcome was not what I was expecting. I may have to ask Raven and Octavia about that.

"Are you serious, Lexa? Rat barbecue are like the best! Undeniably!" And I was still watching her quietly, "Fine. Whatever. Just try it. I promise you it tasted like chicken."

I couldn't believe it. If all flesh were to cook or barbecued, may it be human flesh or frog flesh or snake flesh or rat flesh, were to have the same taste as of a chicken then why buy that? So I presented her my thoughts and suggested that I will take chicken instead. By the look on her face, I concluded that she was very unhappy.

So I further elaborated that if I bought a chicken barbecue and a rat barbecue, had her to close her eyes and took a bite from each - I do agree with her it'll be the same taste because after all it is still meat and cooked on a timely and well prepared manner.

"So what? You're not liking the rat barbecue because it's different? Because it  _looks different_ and out of the normalcy compared to your  _chicken_ barbecue? Is that why, Lexa?"

I explained again that it is normal for me to buy chicken barbecue because having known that they do still have the same taste as of theory, there is no reason to buy a rat barbecue.

"You know what, whatever!"

I could sense that we're having a simple disagreement that could easily be resolved by an experiment. So I ordered a stick of chicken barbecue but by the time that it was fully cooked and was served by the friendly owner, I turn around to ask Emori to close her eyes to test the experiment, she had disappeared.

Later on that day, Octavia had advised me to have just abandoned the experiment prior to Emori leaving. Undoubtedly. But at which point? Where was the signal? Were there even signs? This are the subtleties that I kept failing to see. But I have also failed to see how a rat barbecue taste should be a prerequisite to be someone's partner. The Rat Barbecue Disaster had cost a whole evening of my life, compensated only by the perfectly steamed dumpling at the Chinese Restaurant.

////

One breakfast is insufficient to prepare and research of the historical topic, hence, for me to reach the efficiency and managing time amicably, sacrificing nourishment was inevitable. Eating manners were greatly disrupted by my constant typing on the keyboard with my lunch left cold half of the time. I had come to a conclusion that the history of the 13 clans is a vast topic to discuss, therefore, I have narrowed it down to a combination of brief introduction of each clans and their specialties which I believe highly suitable for my audience. This was highly effective and time efficient as it reduces time wastage in unnecessary research activities.

The lecture was scheduled for 4.30pm at one of the auditorium in the administration building. I estimated my walking time of 3 minutes from the Science building to the Administration building, and allowed 4 minutes to set up the projector and slideshows.

I arrived on schedule at 4.26pm, having let Wick - the hot cleaner, according to Raven - into my apartment 35 minutes earlier with 2 minutes to spare for him to prepare his equipments. I counted 35 people piling in and populating not the first four rows as I had imagined but rather scattered everywhere which disrupts the mind in focusing on the task, but I did not let this hinder my aim - I have a time frame to obey. I immediately recognized Clarke Griffin, the 'guardian' from Raven's description: 'blonde with big tits'. In fact, her breast were probably bigger than the average size based on the mean size for her body weight, and I have to agree with Raven it is a remarkable identifying feature. It was more of a how she put on her costume and it's elevation, which in this case was perfectly practical for a hot January afternoon.

I may have spent too long verifying her identity, as she looked at me peculiarly.

"You must be Clarke Griffin," I said.

"Can I help you?" The girl asked, emitting that smile. Only now did I noticed her blue eyes can be a significant feature as well.

"No, I can handle from here."

"Oh, right," she said, "You must be Professor Woods. I'm so glad you could make it."

Clarke extended her hand but I waved it away, "Please, settle down your students in a proper manner. First four rows. Please. It's 4.28pm."

Another efficient work done, at least a reasonable person Clarke to be around helping in getting the children to sit in rows and not dispersed as if they have 'Cooties' as to what young people referred to. Clarke approached me once again seemingly watching me by the lecturer's desk.

"Relax," she said, "We don't have to start before their history teacher had already arrived. Would you like a coffee?"

I simply stare at her, why people value other people's time so little? Now we would have an inevitable time for small talk, when I could have spend the 10 minutes waiting for the children's history teacher to arrive, practicing Kendo.

My whole focus was on Clarke that when I simply looks away I realized I neglected the remaining 34 people, whom mostly comprises of children who were busy talking obnoxiously loud to their classmates and 3 adults by the last row, as I assumed another 'guardians', busy with their electronic devices. Well I hope they listened during History class because I have some very exciting topics.

I realized that I had failed to reply to the coffee question.

"No."

Unfortunately, Clarke seemed to forgot about the question and gave me a questionable look. "No, coffee," I elaborated, "I do not drink coffee."

Clarke seemed utterly shock, "then how could you stay awake for the entire day?"

"Proper sleeping schedule, Clarke. Too much caffeine in your system can compromise your sleep hence, insomnia, affects your nervous system, stomach upsets and many more. Which overall compromises the performance if they have a conventional job." I was trying to be productive by giving a practical advise, but it seemed like she preferred to discuss trivia.

"How's Professor Reyes?"

"She's fine, thank you," I replied, adapting in a third person concept, seeing that Clarke had obviously skipped the the most common question 'How are you?'

"Oh. I thought she was sick," hinting me that confused face.

"Raven is perfectly healthy. In the pink of health. We had a run this morning. She's on a date tonight. She won't be able to go out tonight if she's ill."

Clarke seemed unimpressed and evaluating her reaction later on, Raven must have lied to her about her reason for not being able to do the lecture. Which further explains the girl's silent grumble and typing away furiously on her phone, as presumably a way to protect Clarke from feeling that the lecture was unimportant to Raven that she'd rather go on a date and then send a substitute as her replacement. It seems like a relevant reaction from Clarke, having known that she had been deceit and lied to by Raven.

Nonetheless, I had the laptop and projector set up and we got started, _20 minutes late._ I would have to speak 40% faster to finish on schedule at 5.15pm - a completely implausible task. I knew we were going to be late and the rest of my evening will be ruined.

/////

I had been speaking faster than my normal speed to make up for loss time, 13 minutes to be exact when Clarke had interrupted.

"Professor Woods, most of us here can't understand Trigedasleng, so you may need to translate the words."

This kind of things are highly annoying. People can tell you what the Kardashians ate for breakfast, lunch and dinner and will spend days watching football, but cannot find the interest to learn a language that their ancestral had spoken.

I continued my presentation as I had prepared it. It was too late to slow down and surely some of the audience were informed about the topic that will be discussed. A hand went up, a girl in a fishtail braid.

"What does jus drein jus daun mean?"

My eyes found Clarke's suggestive smirk and I knew that's Raven's interpretation as 'I told you so.'

"Blood must have blood. The idea is that blood that is spilled can only be satisfied by more blood. Which ultimately led to battles and wars where blood will be-..."

Clarke interrupted again, "Which are already in the past. We don't jus drein jus daun today. We use a democratic system in handling criminal offenders. No blood is spilled. No blood is claimed."

I was astounded to hear how Clarke pushes aside the idea of jus drein jus daun. How it sounds savage when you read between the lines, but that was how our ancestral survives. It was the only way to live.

Another hand shot to the air and then several more, what a sight to see!

"So what about the people who got hanged? Or persecuted through electric chair?" A boy with a blonde hair at the second row asked.

I watched Clarke fidgeted which signifies uneasiness or uncomfortable by the situation. Her blue eyes found mine and it was my turn to give her 'I told you so' look. It was highly entertaining to watch when all the kids started raising their hands in the air and started shouting their questions and thoughts, causing the 3 guardians at the back doing a quick damage control.

I felt I had made my point effectively, and Clarke did not think that we still need to continue discussing the history behind Jus drein Jus Daun which cuts a large proportion of the lecture, which is a good outcome as I have sufficient time to finish the entire lecture within the time frame.

It was only 5.08pm. Extremely well done.

"Oh my God," Clarke said, "I need a drink."

I was not sure why she's sharing this information to someone she had known for 42 minutes. I planned to drink some alcohol myself once I've reached home but I don't see a reason why I would share that information to her.

She continued, "You know we have to be careful to tell the kids about Jus Drein Jus Daun. It's a horrible and frightful practice. The kids might think it's okay to kill someone just because blood was spilled."

More negative implication from someone who's paid to assist and guide the children.

"Like the concave?" I asked questioningly.

"History has affected the way people live today. I'm just glad that democracy and fair justice system was in place. If not, we would be witnessing killings in the street and they'll think that it's okay."

"Clarke, our history had moulded who we are today. There's more than jus drein jus daun and there's more than the concave. Not all grounders are mean and vicious, Clarke. They have a heart too and they will protect who they care about."

"If you put it that way," said Clarke. "You're really giving me a different perspective here." She looked at me for a few moments. "Do you have time for a drink?" And then she put her hand on my shoulder.

I flinched automatically. Definitely, inappropriate contact. If a man had done that to me there would almost certainly have been a problem, possibly a sexual harassment complaint to the Dean, which could have consequences for their career. Of course, no one was going to criticize  _her_ for it.

"Unfortunately, I have other activities scheduled."

"No flexibility?"

"Definitely not." Having succeeded in recovering lost time, I was not about to throw my life in chaos again.

////

Before I met Raven and Octavia I have two other friends. The first was my older sister, Anya. Although she have a high stature at a Marketing company, she have strong desire to be in the Army - in which I deeply encourage her as what 'family/friend' are obligated to do, given that it was plausible for her to survive. However, that conversation always turns into a shrug and "we'll see."

I have no choice but to establish friendship with Anya - despite already her being my sister, she's already included in my life where I have no say -  as according to her, "blood is thicker than water," hence, led to visitations twice a week and sometimes randomly. She lives nearby therefore, we would eat together and discuss trivia, such as daily interaction with colleagues, events in the lives of our relatives and of course, the never ending interrogations of why I was still single. I do not understand why she's very interested with mine when she had been single for a long time, maybe due to her intimidating and cold - harsh glares. It only made sense. Twice a month, we would drive to TonDC for Sunday dinner with our parents, where another endless questionings of my none-existing 'romantic escapade' would take place. I dread those dinners.

The second friend was Titus, who's friendship period overlaps with Anya, Raven and Octavia's. He moved in into the apartment beside mine after he's wife died from old age. Due to weak legs, exacerbated by old age, he was unable to move around more than a few steps, but he was highly intelligent and I began to visit him regularly. He have great qualifications, having performed as a head of security for one of the well-known politicians, however, due to old age he retired and kept a low-profile life. Which I think was languishing when he's health condition was a threat to his job and what's more saddening, his descendants did not return the care. He was always curious about my work, and we initiated the Teach Titus Project, this in line with my current research on space and stars, and history which was fascinating for the both of us.

He began eating at my apartment on a daily basis, as there are great wastage of cooking home cook meal for one when I always ended cooking for two, as if our bodies were wired to finish meals for two, therefore, I have daily dinner company. Each Sunday at precisely 6am we would visit his wife at the Polis Memorial Park, which was 5.4 kilometers away. I was able to combine my 10.8 kilometers walk pushing a wheelchair with interesting conversation about history. I would read while waiting for Titus talking to his wife, who's tombstone always looking pristine and clean thanks to the groundkeeper - whom I paid every week.

Titus' name is translated to 'title of honor', with a relation from Ancient Roman and Biblical usage. Every month of July on the 28th, Titus' wife would always celebrate with a cake that has an emblem of a fire on the top of it.

"She would always say I'm her firekeeper because I keep the romance alive," Titus would then laughs.

He would consider this very romantic action from his wife. He complained that this approaching birthday would the first occasion in 53 years on which this symbolic act would not be performed. The solution was obvious, and when I wheeled him to my apartment for dinner on his 79th birthday, I had purchased a cake with the same fire emblem to give him.

He recognized the emblem and began crying. I thought I had made a terrible error, but he explained that his tears were a symptom of happiness. He was also impressed by the home cook meal that I have done but not to a certain extent as the cake.

During the meal, he made an incredible statement: "Lexa, you would make someone a wonderful wife."

This was a huge contradiction to my past negative experiences with women that I was temporarily stunned. Then I presented him with the facts - the history of Lexa's attempts to find a partner, beginning with my assumption as a child that I would grow up and get married with a man but it made known to me at a tender age of 11 that I was not whom I thought I was. Therefore, experimentation was held and I was held captivated by the astounding result.

"I'm a lesbian. Having known that I was, I start thinking differently about myself and people around me. How little they think of a woman liking woman or gay for that matter, I have strived to work harder for myself."

Titus gave me that knowing smile .

And I continued, "therefore, I abandoned that I will ever get married to a man and with many failed attempts to endeavor on the romance cart, the evidence was clear. I was unsuitable."

His argument was simple: "there's someone for everyone."

I have to agree with him, _statistically_. Unfortunately, the probability that I would find such person was vanishingly small. But it created a disturbance in my brain, like a mathematical problem that we all know must have a solution.

For the next three birthdays, we repeated the cake rituals. The results weren't as dramatic as the first, but I also purchased gifts for him - book on history - and he seemed very happy about it.

"Birthdays are my favorite day of the year," Titus had mentioned, one of the several times as he eats slowly on his cake.

I understood the view of it being the favorite day for children commonly due to gifts but I was not expecting it to an adult.

85 days after his 4th birthday dinner, we were traveling to visit his wife with a great conversation about what he read about space stations when it became apparent that he had forgotten some significant points. It was not the first time that his memory had been faulty, and I immediately organized an assessment of his cognitive functioning. The diagnosis was Alzheimer's disease.

Titus' intellectual capability deteriorated rapidly, and we were soon unable to discuss about space or history. But we still continue with our daily dinner and his visits to his wife. Titus would now constantly talks about his past, most especially about his wife and I have a clearer view of what life is like, married.

"Every evening she would cook me a wonderful stew! Her famous beef stew, with perfectly cut carrots and potatoes." Titus laughs, sending him to cough slightly.

"What else does she cooks?" I would then asks. Having it known to me that Titus talking about his wife brought him happiness and I took it upon myself to maximize it.

"Oh her pumpkin pie was to die for!"

At times like this when I thought to myself will I be like this when I grow old? Will I be able to find my partner in life and be as happy as Titus? Another moment of reflection about my none-existing love life.

One day Titus asked, "When will I be celebrating my birthday again?" and I realized that he had lost track of dates. I decided that it would be acceptable to lie in order to maximize his happiness. However, the problem had arose, the baker who bakes the cake that Titus loves was gone and my plan will never work if it weren't for his skills. Fortunately, I had presented this dilemma with Raven and Octavia, and they willingly helped.

"Why are you still helping Titus?" Octavia suddenly asked as we walked down the street at the new bakery that apparently the baker was rehired.

"Obviously, he needed help," I quickly pointed out, listing down the inability of Titus that I was there to help him.

"You've grown closer to him," Raven simply said, "Like a father."

I pondered on that comment, it was a moment of reflection that I started comparing my relationship to my father, Gustus to Titus. There is a great difference. So I denied the presumption.

"But you're seemed closer to him than your father," Octavia interjected.

I was done thinking about the differences because it was too apparent that my acts around Titus was as of more of a daughter compared to my own father.

"Maybe because of your dad always not around." Raven seemed to figure it out.

We were managed to get another cake from the baker and I repeated the procedure of purchasing every time Titus would ask about his birthday. Eventually, it was then necessary for Titus to join the nursing home, and , as his memory deteriorates further, we celebrated his birthdays more often, until I was visiting him daily. The cake shop which apparently the baker owns, gave me a loyalty card. I calculated that Titus had reached 743 cakes with my daily visits for him to stop recognizing me, and 244 more cakes when he no longer responded to the firekeeper cake and I abandoned the visits.

////

I did not expect to hear from Clarke again. As usual my reduction about human behavior was wrong. Three days after the said lecture, at 4.43pm, my phone rang with an unfamiliar number.

"Good afternoon, Professor Woods speaking."

"Wow, are you this formal on the phone too?"

I cannot comprehend how people can be so informal or at the least have some manners on phone etiquette, clearly the caller had missed her proper greeting.

"May I know who's speaking?" I asked, almost sensing my great annoyance to the caller who was laughing.

"It's Clarke. Remember me? From the lecture?"

Oh of course, the blonde with the big tits.

"Clarke. What can I do for you?"

She suggested we meet over dinner and 'talk'. It was too vague what we should talk about and dinner as usual, I eat alone which was how I like it, but the scheduling shouldn't be too hard.

"What specific topics are you interested in?"

"Oh" she said, "I thought we could just talk generally... Get- Get to know each other a bit."

This sounded unfocused. "I need at least a broad indication of subject domain. What topics interest you?"

"Oh... I guess the stuff about the history? Trigedasleng?"

I would definitely needed to do research, "what do you need to know?"

"I was wondering how the history affects our nation today. How we lost the Trigedasleng language... You know those stuff. The statistics say that at least 80% of the world's population had lost the language and I wanted to know how did they found that out."

It was a good point. This are the questions that many people have no answers for, when clearly they delved too much of their time watching reality shows and disgraceful movies. "I presume the statistics they made an assessment. Tests and surveys to filter what their theory and conclusion-..." I had not finished my sentence when a light bulb lit up in my head - not literally, of course.

A questionnaire! Yes! Such an obvious solution. A very useful and easily constructed platform with an aim and purpose to filter the time wasters, the touchers, the spitters, the yellers, the smokers, the hyena laughters, the rat - chicken barbecue discriminators, the fashion obsessives, the history/scientific illiterate, homophobes leaving ideally, the perfect partner, or, realistically, a manageable shortlist of candidates.

"Lexa?" It was Clarke, still on the line. "When do you wanna meet together?"

Things had changed. Priorities had shifted.

"It's not possible," I said. "My schedule is full."

I was going to need all the available time for the new project.

_The Wife Project._


	2. The Search Embarkation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The part where The Wife Project came to life and kicking in. The part where Lexa tries to date other people and stumbled upon Clarke. Let's see where will this two lead. Let me know what you think and what will happen between Lexa and Clarke! Enjoy! Hit the comment section!

After speaking to Clarke, I went immediately to Raven's office in the engineering building, but she was not there. Fortunately, her personal assistant, The cute Monty Green, was not there either and I have access to Raven's schedule. I discovered that she was giving a lecture that will end at 6pm, with a short gap of 6.15pm for another meeting. Excellent. I would merely reduced my gym time to meet with Raven with my brilliant idea. I booked the vacant slot.

After a quick workout at the gym, with a deletion of showering, I jogged to the lecture theatre, where I waited outside the entrance. Although I was perspiring due to the workout, then the jog and of course, the beating of the hot sun, I was electrified, both physically and mentally.

As soon as my watch beeped 6pm, I walked in and found Raven at the front, still talking. The lights were off and due to me opening the door it let in a shaft of light, and I realized that the audience's eyes were now on me, as if expecting me to say something.

"Time's up," I said, "I have meeting with Raven."

People immediately started getting up, and I surveyed that the Dean - Thelonious Jaha, at the front row with 4 other men in corporates suits. I presumed they're the potential provider of finance that Raven have been trying to solicit funding for the engineering department.

Raven spoke among the ruckus, "I think my colleague Professor Woods has given us a signal that we should further discuss the finances, critical as they are to our work, at some other time." She looks towards the Dean and his companions.  
"Thank you again for your interest in my work and of course that of my colleagues at the engineering department." There was applause. It seemed that my interference was timely.

The Dean nodded at me as they walked past me. Finally, I turn to talk to Raven but annoyingly, a throng of people were surrounding her and this includes a woman with a very red hair, seemingly talking to her in a harsh but quiet way.

"I can't believe you're doing this."

"It's a matter of fact. It's about connecting and sharing details. Don't get me wrong on this." Raven seemed pretty heated up.

It was obvious that there was some animosity building up between the two women even though Raven was smirking.

"And you have the audacity to get a replacement, and for what? Just to have sex?"

I was amazed by Raven's next reply, she do have a gift in changing topics in subtlety.

"This is sounding like a pretty long discussion. Why don't we pick it up at my house?"

"Sorry," red haired woman said. "I've got research to do. You know, the one that truly matters."

I moved to push in but I was blocked by another man who is definitely taller than me. They made a conversation and yet, I was still by the side line, cussing over my precious time gone wasted. By the time they were done, Raven came rushing to me apologizing that she have to be at another meeting at 6.15pm. A perfectly 15 minutes wasted.

"You can talk to Monty to book you another slot, okay? I really have to go, Lex. Bye!" Raven rushed out of the door but not before pecking me on the cheek. She had made two social errors:

  1. Raven had shorten the short form of my name. Alexandria - Lexa - into 'Lex'. Which was unacceptable. I will have to discuss that to her which further lengthens our meeting.
  2. A kiss on the cheek. A complete violation of body contact. I could file a sexual harassment on her. Fortunately, we have established a friendship and filing a lawsuit would only shaken our foundation.



I have synchronized mine and Raven's schedules and book the available slots for the both of us and fortunately, the earliest meeting we have is the following morning.

I waited until exactly 7 am the next day before knocking on Raven and Octavia's apartment. It would have been necessary to shift my morning jog at 5am in the morning with a little alter as well in buying dinner for the night. It was like hitting two birds with one stone. Very well planned.

I heard a surprise by the door when Octavia opened it, staring at me with her disheveled hair and pajamas.

"Good morning, Octavia. I am here to have a meeting with Raven," I informed her.

Octavia replied with a grunt and nonetheless, stepped aside as I walked in. Raven and Octavia had just woken up and was not expecting me. I informed Raven that I had synchronized our schedules so as to have the ultimate priority on the Wife Project. She was not seemed enthusiastic.

I had missed breakfast, so I took a banana from the fridge and joined the two women at the table. Octavia asked whether I had enjoyed the History of the 13 clans lecture. She was under the impression that Raven had delivered the lecture and I had merely attended. I told her it was fascinating and failed to mention the other part, in which with Raven's subtleness signaling me not to mention anything, works. Her project on Teach Lexa Social Behavior seems to work well. I am learning very fast.

"Isn't it? The grounder culture's awesome!" Octavia blurted out with that excitement of a child.

"Does a grounder reminds you of someone?" Raven asked, darting her eyes to her best friend.

They certainly did. The physical attributes of a grounder can easily describe partially of Octavia Blake. I was about to relate the fascinating story of me accidentally entering Octavia's bedroom, having known that it was a bathroom, and found Trigedaslang writings on the wall and more relics from the past, when a cat jumped on the table spilling yoghurt on my blouse.

"Jasper!" Octavia waved the thin black cat off the table and said, "Stay still. I'll get a cloth."

A cloth was not going to clean my shirt properly. Laundering a shirt requires a machine, detergent, fabric softener and considerable amount of time.

"I'll borrow one of Raven's," I said and immediately, pulled out my shirt and walked to Raven's bedroom.

When I got back, Octavia was busy in the shower while Raven was washing the dishes. This was getting frustrating. I booked dinner on Saturday night and made sure with them to not schedule any other conversation topics nor other activities. The Wife Projects needs more attention more than anything.

The delay on the discussion of the project can be opportune as I had drastic research on the questionnaire designs, lists down the possible candidate attributes and produce a draft survey. All of this, of course, has to be arranged on my free time around my other academic research and lectures, and of course, with the appointment with the Dean.

On Friday afternoon we had yet another unpleasant interaction regarding a graduating student whom as a result of me reporting him for an academic dishonesty. I had caught  _again,_ John Murphy cheating on his written report, counting on his previous cases for instance cheating on a class test two years prior.

It was made known to me that John Murphy's private tutor was a previous student of Polis University and therefore, helped him write the paper. This had happened few weeks ago and much evidence submitted, I was hoping for a disciplinary action. Apparently, it was more complicated than that.

"The plight that Murphy's at is a little awkward," Jaha said, with his straight posture and folded arms. "This is Murphy's third offense and the university were requires for him to be expelled."

It is indeed a justice that needed to be served, when a fact that he was already reported by another lecturer with dishonesty. The facts are clear and the necessary actions are straightforward. I tried to identify the 'awkward' part of the situation. "Is the evidence not enough? Is he making a legal challenge?"

"No, all is perfectly clear. But his first offense was naive, he memorized a paragraph from a book and was caught the plagiarism system. The second time was you reporting him because you were familiar with the paper that was it was based on... He was having family and personal issues, Professor Woods."

"I don't see that as an excuse."

"Lexa, none of the other lecturers are as.... Vigilant.... As you. This kids pay a huge amount of money to study here. We rely on their fees. Kids will always be kids. But we have to identify that they needed assistance, and Murphy... He got one semester left to go. We can't send him home after 3 and a half year of studying without a qualification. It's not a good look."

"What if he's a medical student? What if he cheated and we let him pass and then he'll ended up working in a hospital not knowing what to do during an operation?"

"John Murphy is not a medical student. He may have been caught by the system but he apologized."

As it seems that Jaha had been trying to talk me out in reporting Murphy the third time round and procure an unethical behavior. But the solution on the problem was very obvious and if he didn't want to break the rules, he might as well change the rules. I presented him my thoughts and I wasn't very good in reading facial expression that was on his face.

"We can't be seen to allow cheating."

"Even though we do?" I questions.

The meeting left me confused and angry. There were numerous cases to be at stake. What if our teachers in school were cheaters? What if the judge was a cheater? What if the doctor who treated my father a year ago cheated on his exam? Are we allowing this unethical acts gone unnoticed?

Obviously, the meeting had left me this frustrated. I could only imagine what it be like to live with Jaha under the same roof. It wouldn't be a pretty sight. This had strengthen me in fully cultivate my questionnaires to filter women who cheated as well. It was only necessary.

////

Raven opened the door with a knife in hand, sending her to laugh, must be the expression on my face. I walked inside and got the The Wife Project file out of my bag and places a draft copy for Raven and Octavia. 20 pages back and forth.

"Relax, Lexa. There's plenty of time." Raven said, handing over a glass of red wine. "We will have a quiet dinner and then the questionnaires. If you were to date, you have to need dinner practice."

Which I think was a good idea. Raven is an excellent cook and Octavia makes an incredible dessert. When the dessert time comes, Octavia placed a home made blue berry pie on the table and I took out the questionnaires, handing over each of their copies. I explained that I had followed the standard questionnaire design, with a usage of multiple choices, two-point questions, likert scales, semantic, matrix questions and contingency questions. Octavia asked for an example.

"Question 11:  Do you eat broccoli? Multiple choice. Correct answer,  _C: Occasionally._ Testing for food problems. If you asks them directly what do they eat, they'll say, 'anything' but then you found out they're only meat lovers or a vegetarian. Or worse, they only eat meat every Thursday and Saturday and the rest are purely vegetarian. It filters the complications."

Food is just one of the important topics that I have to tackle on this project. The complications can be harsh and I can't tolerate any more misunderstandings. Therefore, I think it's only appropriate to immediately pointed out who's the meat lovers and who's the veggie lovers.

Raven and Octavia were reading the questionnaire. When Octavia made an attempt to answer one of the question. "The date arrival time. I would have to say  _C: A little early._ "

Incorrect. Even Octavia whom I have gained friendship, demonstrated her incompatibility to the project.

"The correct answer is  _A: On time._ " I said, "more or less is a waste of time."

Raven then decided to join in, "I think I'll allow  _a little early._ It goes to show that she's trying hard. That's not a bad thing."

Another point taken. I had made a side note to take into consideration of the plausible answers.

"I think if a woman self declares that she's a great cook. I think it's too much of herself," Raven pointed out, "just ask her if she enjoys cooking. Mention too that you do enjoy cooking too."

This was the sort of complication in the english language that I failed to notice. The play with words and it's different meanings.

"No jewelry? No make-up?" Octavia asked. "Lexa, woman wear make up and jewelry. If you wanna ask this question just drop the jewelry and maybe ask... If they wear make-up daily or something?"

"Hair coloring?" Raven asked, pointing at question 37.

"I have to know if they put too much chemical on their hair. It's an unhealthy way of living."

"Right," Raven rolled her eyes. "Because your hair is so naturally healthy and bouncy with loop de loops."

I could sense the on going sarcasm on my two friends. This was something I started learning when I picked up friendship with Raven and Octavia. I wouldn't say its an easy task, I was still trying to figure that one out. Especially the face that Octavia was giving right now.

"Fitness. BMI. Hmm," Octavia tapped on her chin as if she's thinking so deeply. Which I do not understand when it's very straightforward.

"Height, weight  _and_ body mass index," I said. "It's important."

"Can't you calculate it yourself?" Raven asked.

"That's the point of the question. To show if they know arithmetic. I can't date someone who's mathematically illiterate." I explained further.

"I thought it's about you wanting to know what they're look like."

"It's fitness."

"I'm talking about sex, Lexa." Raven said.

I blinked not quite getting Raven was talking about until it hit me. " Good thinking. I'll add a question about HIV-..."

"STOP!" Octavia slammed her hand on the table, attracting my attention, "Lexa, you're being too picky."

And I started explaining to her about the danger of transmitted disease during intercourse, when I was interrupted again.

"I'm talking about  _everything._ "

I understand the reasoning, however, my main goal is to eliminate unsuitable candidates. So as to not waste time on dates that I could have avoided. Maybe it was not susceptible for Raven and Octavia but I am battling with a very large population here.

"Non-smokers. Fair enough. What's the right answer on drinking?" Raven asked.

"None."

She looks at me weirdly, "But you drink," nodding at my wine glass.

"I have come to terms that with the questionnaires, I will change myself for the better. I will stop drinking once I found a suitable partner who would do the same."

We continued the questionings and deletion of several questions, plus, the offer of a 'better' and 'appropriate' questions. Beyond all of this, I had received a positive feedback on the questionnaire, it is now more focused and according to Octavia 'woman friendly' - whatever she meant by that. Thinking back, the Rat Barbecue woman would have failed 10 questions and I can't stand even if it's 3 questions wrong. She is deemed unsuitable for me.

My plan was to advertise myself on a dating website and paste the link of the questionnaire on the description. Raven and Octavia also suggested that I also do a face-to-face dating to practice my social skills. So I obliged, I took part on the Three Table Turns. Printed some questionnaires and head for the venue on time.

Upon arriving at the Thai restaurant, I was astounded to see only  _One woman_ was there and I've arrived on time, 8pm. I have to deduce this to an option of  _B: A little late,_ or  _D: Very late._ Either way it is a bad sign. I could almost feel a little lenient and allow  _B: A little late,_ which undoubtedly appropriate in this situation. I could almost hear Octavia saying, "Lexa, Everyone can be a little late."

Apparently, I have some competition, 2 men, which saves me some printed questionnaires. The organizer of the event tells me that all the ladies are bisexual which shouldn't be a problem except that they were _late_. I assessed the competition, Cage Wallace, very very pale to the bone but with a sleek black hair. Probably around my age and seem to take care of his fitness, it was very obvious with his white shirt stretching around his torso.

Next, Shumway, an asian that when he smiles, his eyes were barely visible. Nice guy but a little overweight, his arms were decorated by tattoos of a dragon and his hair was completely dry, I assume it's the chemical that he put, it's obvious on his purple hair style.

The last one, the woman who's on-time. Her name was Costia, and she divided all her attention to the three of us. She told us that she works for the Polis Green Organization. A company that dwells on saving mother earth and many more natural preservations. I take this as a good sign. Cage made a racist joke about africans. Shumway was as just confused at what was the topic. Costia seemed very unimpressed with their answer. It was self-gratifying that I wasn't the only one who was social inept on this table. Costia turned to me and asks what kind of work I do, when we were interrupted by the late arrival of the two ladies.

Zoe Monroe and Fox, a nurse and a secretary respectively. Monroe, as according to Zoe would like herself to be called, was wearing a turtle neck blouse and a very long black skirt - she said she was very conservative, I don't know why that bothers me. While, Fox, was wearing an explicitly short skirt and a blouse that showcase her chest, which she reasons out 'it's pretty hot in here.' Among all of these ladies, I'm still rooting for Costia because she wears a more appropriate dress with not so much flesh but shows off a little, with an idea that she does have a great body. I would say BMI 22.

Thinking of taking on the questionnaire, I further assessed their IQ. I estimated with my conversation with Costia she is very receptive and very intelligent. Firm ideas and logical arguments. At this point I was intrigued to slip in the transmitted disease, HIV questions. Meanwhile, Monroe and Fox were filled with laughter and crackling like a hyena with the other two gentlemen and don't seem want to get interrupted. A very good idea. I have Costia all for myself.

With everyone all in place, the waiter came in with the menu and Costia scanned hers then asked, "is your salad includes meat?"

I did not hear the answer because I was too busy taking notes on my questionnaire. Costia must have taken note the disappointment on my face. "I'm not a fan of chicken or anything meat on my salad."

"Vegetarian?"

"Oh gosh no! I love meat. Just  _not_ on my salad," she smiled and how fortunate that may sound like, I smiled too.

I quickly assess the questionnaire for further examination of this woman is  _the one._ I can't risk not making sure, just because of the salad incident.

"Do you eat broccoli?"

"Occasionally," Costia shrugs.

Bingo.

"Do you smoke?"

"No," she replied, making a face even.

Having known that the other two candidates were deemed unsuitable, they arrived  _20 minutes late,_ I have come to a conclusion that Costia was the better choice. I continued my conversation with Costia, who was an excellent company, and even ordered an additional drink after the others had departed in pairs. We stayed, talking, until we were the last one in the restaurant. As I put my questionnaire in my purse, Costia gave me her contact number, which I took note of so an not to appear rude. Then we went on our separate ways.

Reflecting on the dinner, it was a terrible idea however, the questionnaire was indeed a great help to eliminate the unwanted candidates. Without its questions that helped me to get the conversation going, not straying me into a very awkward silence with Costia, I would have undoubtedly go for a second date. She was very nice, great conversationalist, highly intelligent and very interesting. Perhaps, we could even go for the third, or fourth date, and then one day, all the salad in the restaurant have chicken or meat on them. And then eventually, she'll eat broccoli  _all the time_ and I didn't even know about it.

It's better to find out soon before we made an investment in our relationship.

////

To prevent a social interaction with a stranger with regards to the questionnaire. I took the liberty to stand outside a suburban house with a little patio at the front and a small drive way where crowds of people were piling in. I told the host of the party about my research and I was left alone, with her grumbling under her breath.

The women had arrived and each were handed over a questionnaire and that of will be handed back in before they leave the party. After an hour and a half, a lady in a white blouse and a black slacks came up to me with two glasses of champagne. She's probably in her early 30's with an estimated BMI of 21. She handed me a glass and produced the questionnaire.

"I thought you might need a company," she said in a very attractive way.

I was not thirsty but I was pleased to be offered with an alcoholic drink. I have taken into consideration of not quitting alcohol unless I found a non-drinking partner. I have also taken into consideration that option  _B: moderately,_ would be an acceptable answer and made a quick note to update the questionnaire.

"Thank you."

I hoped she had given me back the questionnaire then I would have completed my task. She was extremely attractive, the way she dresses and the way she speaks. With an additional gesture of the drink indicated high level of consideration.

"You are a researcher is that right?" She asked, looking at the questionnaire.

"Correct."

"Me too," she said, "There are not many academics here tonight," looking around the crowd. It is made known to me as well the limited number of academics like myself. "I'm Peri Gordon," extending her free hand, which I shook, careful with an appropriate level of firmness. "This is a terrible champagne, no?"

I agreed. Considering seeing the bottle of cheap champagne and wine the host used, I decided to not drink for the night and keep my mind clear and alert, for potential candidates.

"You think I could invite you to go to a bar and get something better?" she asked.

I shook my head. The poor selection of alcohol was annoying but not critical.

Peri took a breath deeply, "Look. I have drunk two glasses of wine, I have not had sex for the past 3 months, and I would rather wait 3 more rather than try anyone here. So can I buy you a drink?"

It was a very kind offer but it was still early in the evening. I said, "More guests are expected. You may find someone suitable if you wait."

Peri gave me the questionnaire and said, "I guess you'll be announcing the winner soon."

I told her I would and once she was gone, I quickly checked her paper and predictably, she failed in according to Octavia's words 'in sooo many levels'. It was disappointing.

////

My final attempt on non-internet dating was through speed dating. I would not indulge in so much details on that. It was horrendous and a great waste of my time. 90% of them failed the questionnaire and the remaining, already found a suitable candidates. So I am relying on the results of the online questionnaire.

I scheduled a review meeting with Raven, unfortunately, for Octavia she was out of town and will only comes back a day later.

"How many responses?" Raven asked.

"300," I said.

"300 aaandd...," as if she's waiting for something more than that.

" _Exactly_ 300."

She was deeply impressed. I did not tell her about the qualities of the results, it was very upsetting. It was greatly varied, many were partially done and some only stopped at question 1 and abandoned the entire matter. What in the world are we living in? Can't they see that a questionnaire is a very useful and conventional tool in our lives. Apparently, some were not very happy by the questionnaire. How was I to know that? I received several private message demonstrating the hate and how judgmental it was. Judgmental! Oh dear Lord please save this planet.

"Did they include photos?"

"They did but I didn't place it in the folder. It's meant only for important data-...."

"Let's see the photos," Raven insisted, stopping me in the middle of my sentence. Which was becoming a habit of hers and Octavia's. It was getting frustrating. I should make another questionnaire on friends too. I will keep that in mind and look into it later.

Raven scroll down the mouse and scan the pictures. She was very impressed by the many good looking women.

"Not bad, Woods."

She then double-clicked on one of a blonde girl and whistled, which I presume the kinds that were used when looking at attractive woman. I immediately took the mouse from her and check the woman's data, she's unsuitable. I deleted her.

"Woah. Woah. Lex, what are you doing?" Raven protested.

"She's a vegan on Monday, Thursday and Sunday. While the remain days she's only eats meat. Which only complicates the food preparations. She also calculated her BMI incorrectly."

"What was it?"

"23."

"Nice. Can you undelete her?" Raven said, giving me her large grin.

"Why? She's completely unsuitable."

Raven gave me a pointed look, "How many are  _suitable,_ Lexa?"

"So far, none. The questionnaire is an excellent filter," I quickly pointed out. I added that using questionnaires in our daily lives, helps us delete the unnecessaries. Compromise would not be needed.

"You have to always compromise, Lexa," Raven said.

"What about you and Octavia?" I then asked, relating it to their best friend situation.

"What about me and Octavia?"

It was made known to me that Octavia have romantic feelings for Raven. Unfortunately for her, it had gone unnoticed by Raven. Octavia had gone to an extent of always compromising for the girl and I always ended up listening to her constant complaints, which I find extremely inconvenient because I do not know what to do or say on such situations.

"She always compromise with you," I said. "Do you?"

"Of course, I did! Numerous times!" Raven defended.

It came to my attention that Octavia had not mentioned anything about the romantic matter to Raven. Nonetheless, I do not plan to touch that sensitive topic between two best friends.

"Give me your list," Raven said, "Let's combine all of your questionnaires and I will pick out a few for you."

"None of them will meet the criteria. They all have faults."

"Treat it as a practice."

She did made a point. I had thought a few times about Costia, and considered the implication of living with a woman who does not like meat on her salad and other possible complications she might have. Only reminding myself that I should wait until an exact match to turn up, had stopped me from contacting her. I had even rechecked Peri Gordon, the sex deprived researcher. I emailed the results to Raven and made a note, "No smokers."

"Copy that," Raven said, "but you have to ask them out... To dinner... At a proper restaurant."

Raven could probably sense that I wasn't enthusiastic about the idea. She cleverly addressed the problem by offering an even less acceptable alternative.

"There's always the Polis Ball."

"Restaurant is it," I quickly blurted, causing Raven to smile and annoyingly, even snickers.

"Take it easy, commander. Just simply ask them 'How about we do dinner tonight?' Say it after me." Raven gestured with her hands encouragingly. When all I could think about how growing my frustration is with her unlimited nicknames for me. Alexandria - Lexa - Lex - Commander. This is becoming intolerable.

"How about we do dinner tonight?" I repeated.

"See? It wasn't so hard. Right? Pay for the meal. Do not mention sex. And always look them in the eyes, no where else." Raven walked to the door before turning around. "What about the printed questionnaires?"

I gave her everything from the Three Table Turns, the party and the speed dating. I doubt that I'll find a suitable partner with the saddening results.

"Don't worry, Lexa. You're in safe hands," Raven winks and walked out of the door.

////

Approximately 3 hours, after Raven left my office with my potential, which I highly doubt so, partner under her arms, there was a knock on the door. I was expanding my knowledge on the topic of dark matters which was a new and still confusing topic to discuss. I would not say I was pleased by the interruption but I was relieved, very minimal, to take a break. My head was killing me.

I minimized the window on dark matter and looks up to see a woman who I did not recognized standing by the doorway. I estimated her age as 30 and BMI of 21.Her hair was faint red with a hint of emerging blonde in it. How I think my brilliant mind fails on me when I thought of her vaguely familiar. However, I pushed the thought aside and hears the woman speaks.

"Professor Woods?"

As my name is pasted on the door, I do not see that as needed question.

"Correct."

"Professor Reyes suggested I see you."

I was amazed by Raven's efficiency, and looked at the woman more clearly as she approached my desk. I do not detect make-up. All clear and bare. Her body shape and skin tone was consistent and very fair with health and fitness. I don't see any sign of disability, which will not revive my memories of the Rat Barbecue Disaster woman. Thank God! She's wearing a gray AD DC shirt with round neckline that's not too revealing and a black skinny jeans with black heel boots. All black, not really my taste but I guess I could make an exception. Lucky for her, I deleted the no jewelry question because she's wearing a round big loop earrings and very fascinating pendant around her neck that lay comfortably on her bare chest.

What is it? A wheel? A gear? I tilted my head trying to figure it out.

Although, I am not very particular with outfits just as long it's appropriate. This woman's chosen wardrobe was not as of a professor nor an academic. I could only presume she could be self-employed or on a holiday, or freedom of choice or worse, unemployed.

There had been a long pause between us and I could only assume that it was my turn to speak. I looked up from the pendant and remember Raven's instruction.

"How about we do dinner tonight?"

She seemed surprised by my question and replied, "Yeah right. How about we do dinner? How about Trikru and you're paying."

"Excellent. I will make a reservation at 8pm." I said nodded firmly.

"You've got to be kidding me," she uttered, feigning a confused but a little amused.

It was an odd gesture. Why would I joke around with a very important project and most importantly, to a person that I hardly even know?

"No. Is 8pm tonight implausible?"

"Let me get this straight. You're offering to buy me dinner at Trikru tonight?"

Starting from the questioning of my name and down to this, I think this is what Raven call 'not the sharpest tool in the shed'. I considered backing out, or at least delay her for a moment to check on her questionnaire but I do not see how I will achieve this for my surroundings very unlikely will give me support. Another problem arose, what if her questionnaire is one of the printed ones then I have no chance to look into it. But I have to trust Raven in this, she did in fact had said, I am on safe hands. So I merely nodded and confirmed that she did interpreted my offer correctly.

She then turn and left and I realized that I did not even know her name.

I called Raven immediately and recounted back what had happened seconds ago. There seemed to be some confusion, then silence and then a loud mirth. Perhaps she did not expected me to handle the candidate adequately.

"Her name is Clarke Griffin," Raven said.

"Clarke-..."

"And that's all I'm telling you. Have fun. And remember what I said about sex." She then hang up the phone and I sat there blinking. Still processing of what just happened. I came to a realization that the red haired woman was indeed Clarke Griffin from the lecture. The blonde with the big tits. How could I not noticed this? How could I not realized this any sooner? I was already planning to back out due to previous encounters with the woman, however, another problem arose, I do not have Clarke Griffin's number. Perhaps the questionnaires will have her contact number and so I did a thorough scan to locate her data but found no Clarke Griffin. She must be on one of the printed questionnaires. Oh dear Lord.

Raven had left the university and had her phone turned off. And so was Octavia apparently. I had no choice but to see this through. With Raven failing to give me any information about the said woman, I had not known anything about her. What if she's a vegan? What if she's a smoker? Besides from physicality, what do I know of the Clarke Griffin person. Another problem arose when Trikru did not have an available table for two at the agreed time. With nothing else to assist me in this predicament, I have resorted to take action that was not strictly illegal, but doubtless immoral. Its against my better judgement. However, I justified it on the basis that it would be more immoral to fail to meet my commitment to Clarke. Trikru online reservation system had a facilities for VIPs and I made a reservation under the name of Jaha after logging on using relatively unsophisticated backup software. I know another problem will arose from this immoral act, and one being as being recognized as a woman but named after a man. I have to top my acting skills.

I arrived at 7.59pm. The restaurant was located in a 5 star hotel. It was raining hard but thankfully my shirt was not drenched fully. A man in a uniform approached me and pointed at my shirt but I spoke before he had the chance to complain.

"My name is Professor Jaha and I interacted with your reservation system this afternoon."

It appeared that the man do not know who the Dean or Professor Jaha is, which was fortunate. So he checked on his clipboard before nodding and pointed to the direction of the entrance. I was impressed by the efficiency, however, I am now late, 8.01pm, what would Clarke think of me. However, luck seemed to be on my side, Clarke Griffin was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps she was  _B: A little early_ and was already seated but then another problem arose.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. We do have a dress code," said by another man in a suit.

I knew this. That is why I wore a proper cashmere sweater and a slacks with a decent closed heeled shoes.

"No dress code. No food, correct?"

"More or less, ma'am."

There we go. Problem solved. So I continued to walk for the entrance when the man blocked my path. "I'm sorry. Perhaps I wasn't clear. You need to wear a dress, ma'am."

"A dress? You're online website said casual elegant. My outfit of choice isn't casual elegant enough for you?" I asked, sensing my annoyance was piling after numerous inevitable problems had occurred today.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. We do require a little bit more formal from you." The hotel employee then indicated at one of the patrons entering the restaurant who's wearing a satin blue dress. It is elegant but it was not casual.

"There's a difference between casual and formal. Perhaps you should discuss that to your manager and change it appropriately." The official was still showing no interpretable reaction, although I had almost certainly raised my voice. "You're letting your patrons with a wrong idea of your dress code. Do you know how misleading that is? What if your patron is the president and she wore a sweater and a slacks are you still going to let her in?" 

The man stood quietly still staring at me. For a few moments of silence, I was overwhelmed by the absurdity of the situation. I was already in under a lot of stress, preparing for my third encounter with the woman who might become my life partner. And now the institution that I will be paying for for our meal - the service provider who would do everything to make sure as a paying customer I would be comfortable - was putting an obstacle on my way.

I then reached for the man's suit, to gesture what he was wearing when I obviously had no intention of hurting him that I was suddenly grabbed from behind by an unknown person who attempted to pull me away from the man in a suit. I automatically responded a defense mechanism of a safe, low-impact throw to disable the unknown man, having known I am a woman my instincts to protect myself kicked in. The term 'low-impact' is well known for many martial arts practitioners and who knows how to land safely. The assaulter did not know that and landed heavily.

I turned to face him and see him angry and shaking uncontrollably. He made a move but I was quick enough lock him down to the ground.

"Get the fuck off me! I will fucking kill you," he said.

He does not seem to think through his actions. With physical and verbal assault on a woman, I could file a lawsuit on him and the company where he's working for, in which in this case was Trikru. On that verbal threat, it seems illogical for me to let him go with an on going threat. At one point another man came into the scene and tried to pull me out of the attacker one, having known that attacker one might keep to his words, I had no choice but to disable attacker two as well.

Nobody was badly hurt, but it was a very awkward situation. The both of them were groaning and grunting on the ground and can't seem to get up. Attacker one was about to get up when a disabled him again, sending him to groan louder as he landed on the ground.

Fortunately, for attacker two, Clarke had already arrived and made me stop.

The official who stopped me from entering the restaurant seemed to be very surprised, "Clarke!"

Obviously he knows her. She looked at him and then me and then the two thugs on the ground. "Professor Woods! What- What's going on?"

"You're late," I said, "we have a social predicament."

"You know this woman?" The official asked with that distasteful look.

"What do you think, I guessed her name?" Clarke sounded annoyed and I think it was a very bad start, having known I have caused too much scene as it is. I assume we would now be completely thrown out of the restaurant and my immoral activity was now thrown to waste.

I came to notice a small crowd had gathered around us and I stepped back, watching carefully at the two thugs still lying down on the ground. I should think quickly before the third thug comes in.

The official was still talking to Clarke, "Clarke, she assaulted Finn. You did see that right?"

Clarke replied, "Right. Poor Finn. Always the victim."

I turns away from the thugs and got myself calmed down. My head was spinning when I could finally see Clarke. She was wearing a green plain flowy dress, nothing too flashy but definitely elegant. A white high heel stilettos, simple earrings, the familiar pendant and light make-up. Her red hair was refined, bouncing in natural curls on her shoulders. This is a whole new sight of Clarke Griffin compared to this afternoon nor the first encounter. I have heard the word 'stunning' used to describe women, but this was the first time I had actually been stunned by one.

I have come to a conclusion that it was not just the costume or the jewelry or any individual characteristics of Clarke herself: it was the combination of everything. I don't know if her costume was appropriate for the 'formal' dress code of the restaurant, seemingly they prefer people who are beautiful. But 'stunning' was the perfect word for her.

But what she did was even  _more_ stunning. Clarke took out her phone and pointed it at us. It flashes more than twice. The official moved to take it away from her.

"Don't you fucking even think about it, Sterling" Clarke spat with that very intimidating eye contact, "I'm going to have so much fun with these photos.  _Female professor teaches bouncers a lesson._ That is gonna be so epic!" Then a laugh was followed after.

While Clarke was speaking, a man in a gray shiny suit came out, seemingly looking upset, I assumed he's the manager in charge. He spoke briefly to the official and Clarke. Moments later, after making sure that no more harm will be done, Clarke asked me to step aside and stop scaring the apparent, two security personnel. In keeping with the tradition, I bowed and took 3 steps backwards, giving them the much needed space. They had only been doing their jobs that they were paid for and had risked of injuries during in line of duties. The two security personnel seemed a little stunned about the formality but then one of them took my hand and shook it, the other one was a little reluctant but still followed through. It was a good resolution for the No Dress Code Disaster, but I have lost appetite eating at the restaurant.

I followed Clarke into the street. We were quiet for a moment, I thought Clarke was mad because of the incident but she was smiling. I asked her how does she know about the official.

"I used to work there."

"You selected a restaurant that was familiar to you?" I asked.

"Kind of," Clarke said, "I wanna shove it on their faces," she snickered.

"That sounds like a plan," I hinted, feigning a little smile to diffuse the awkwardness that the situation had brought. But I will not deny that it did break the ice between Clarke and I.

"I deal with jerks for a living," she vaguely commented. When I did not commented, she continued, "I work in a bar. Not just any bar - the Polis bar. Where jerks of the jerkiest crowds like little leaches." She began to laugh and I could not help but smile awkwardly at her sense of humor.

I quickly pointed out to her that if she had not arrived late, the violence wouldn't have occurred.

"Glad I was late then. What kind of martial art was that? I saw you flipping those guys from a far. That was one hell of a move."

"Aikido," I answered as we cross the road. I placed my purse between Clarke and I. "I also practice Kendo."

"No way!" Clarke turns to me feeling very surprised, "that take years to master, right?"

I nodded firmly, "I started when I was 8." Then pointed on my eyes. She didn't seemed to understand what I was portraying.

"What am I supposed to be looking at?" She asked, looking deep in my eyes.

Shaking my head, I completely forgot I was not wearing my glasses. "Eye contacts. I started wearing them a year ago. Octavia recommended it since she's a sport enthusiast and wearing glasses could only hinder every time I workout or practice martial arts. I used to wear thick glasses ever since I was 6 and got picked on for years."

"Revenge of the nerds!" She exclaimed.

"I used to do it for self-defense mostly when I was in elementary and high school. But as I grow up it's becoming more for fitness." I had explained, this was a great opportunity to slip in one of the fitness question in The Wife Project. "Do you exercise regularly?"

Clarke snorted which I find so un-lady like. "Depends on your definition of regularly. I'm the world's most unfittest person."

"Exercise is very important to maintain a healthy lifestyle, Clarke."

"So I've been told. My mom's a doctor and she's been advising her patients to exercise regularly when her only daughter can't even do a cinch." She laughs again.

"Surely you should follow her advise," I said.

"Fuck, I'm turning 30. I don't need my mom telling me what to do." She then changes the topic. I could sense why Raven and Clarke are acquaint to each other. "Look, I'm starving and I'm craving for burger."

Due to the incident, I had told her that I was not on the mood of eating in a restaurant anymore. Hence, I will be following my daily routine, cooking a home cook meal.

"Got room for one more?" She asked. "You still owe me a dinner." She then quickly pointed out.

This was true and there had been too many unfortunate events had happened today alone.

"Come on. I won't criticized your cooking. I'm not much of a cook. I'll probably think your the best chef there is," Clarke smiled and weirdly enough, it resembles Raven's 'smirk'. I think the girl was rubbing it off on Clarke.

I was not worried about my cooking skills be criticized. I was more concern for her part for the lack of cooking skills and it was the third fault on The Wife Project, besides from arriving late and lack of fitness. Being a waitress/barmaid was already a bad sign and it was almost falling as the fourth fault with a danger of limited intellectual level. There is no point in continuing.

Before I could protest, Clarke had flagged a cab and pushed me inside.

"Where do you live?" She asked.


	3. The Untimely Circumstances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The part where we pick off the dating experience of Lexa with Clarke. the obvious and oblivious and yet, genuine reaction of Lexa on this plot with Clarke's little curiosity. Let me know what you guys think! Hit the comment section and hit those kudos! Enjoy!

The first thing that I noticed when Clarke and I arrived home was that Clarke seemed to say whatever goes in her head. Which I find rather inappropriate and somehow, confusing. The reason I said this was because I accidentally bumped into her, after letting her in first as a true gentle woman should be, when she abruptly stopped by the the door way.

"Clarke?"

"Wow, Ms Clean freak. This place is... Bare as a baby's bottom. Sparkly clean- How come there's no picture on the wall?"

I had not had any visitors ever since Titus moved out of the building. I knew the only task tonight is to pull out an extra plate and cutlery. But I had been under stressful events lately and my energy level is quickly depleting  ever since the No Dress Code Disaster. Clarke seemed to be in a permanently frenzied state.

We finally pushed into the living room area that adjoins the kitchen.

"Because the brain simply ignores them after awhile. Our brains are wired to focus on differences in our environment. Therefore, if I were to install a picture or art, my brain would notice for a few days and then ignores them. If I want to see a picture or art, I would simply go to the gallery. The art pieces there are of true nature and master piece compared to a cheap poster with a very bad quality printing of Mona Lisa for house decoration."

In fact, I had not visit the art gallery since the 14th of May, 2 years ago. However, this information is deemed unnecessary and no strong points and I saw no reason to share it with Clarke and open up other aspects of my personal life into the light.

Clarke had moved on and was now examining my stacks of CD by the television set. The inspection was becoming irritating. Dinner was already late.

"You really love Eagles. I didn't know some of this still survived. This must have cost a fortune!" Clarke said. This is was a reasonable deduction, as my CD collection consists of only by this American band. But it was not correct.

"I decided to focus on the Eagles after watching Hotel California. Unfortunately, I haven't make any progress. I don't think my brain works fast enough to decode the pattern in the music."

"It's a rock band, Lexa. What's there to decode?"

I simply stared at her.

"You don't listen to it for fun?" she continued.

This was beginning to sound like my initial dinner conversation with Titus. I still did not answered her.

"You've got an iPhone?"

"Of course, but I don't use it for music. I download podcasts." I stated.

"Let me guess - on history."

"Partially and for science. Yes."

I moved to the kitchen to begin dinner preparation and Clarke followed me, stopping to look at my whiteboard schedule.

"Wow," she said, again. This reaction was becoming predictable. I wonder what her response to bombing 300 warriors and being send back to space  _again._

I initiate retrieval of ingredients from the cardboards and refrigerator.

"Let me help you," Clarke said, "I can help chop something."

The implication of letting someone chop something who is not familiar with the recipe, After her comment of not being able to cook even in a life-threatening situation, I had visions of too fine chops ham and chunks carrots that's too big to swallow.

"No assistance is required," I said, "I recommend reading a book."

I watched Clarke walked over to the bookshelf and browse for a moment and then walk away. Perhaps she does not have fascination over zen and meditation, which is understandable she did mentioned being the unfittest in the world. I wish she changes her mind, her waist line is expanding exponentially since the first meeting.

The sound system has an iPod port that I use to play podcasts while I cook. Clarke plugged in her phone and music wafted from the speaker. It was not loud, but I was certain that if a had put a podcasts without asking permission when visiting someone's home, I would have been liable for social error.  _Very certain of it,_ as I had experienced it at a house at 32 Drakela Street, owns by Professor Whitman from Engineering Department. A dinner party for engineering professors that I had been invited by Raven a year and 45 days ago. It was an unpleasant night.

Clarke continued her exploration, like a space girl dropped on planet Earth, which of course she was not, not literally. She opened the blinds and raised them, creating dust. I consider myself meticulous in my cleaning - which I consider Clarke's nickname for me acceptable, although inappropriate - but I do not need to open the blinds and there must have been dust in places not reachable without doing so. Behind the blinds are doors, which obviously Clarke opened because strong breeze came through it, blowing my chopped coriander from the chopping board.

I was feeling very uncomfortable at this violation of my personal environment. I tried to concentrate on food preparation as Clarke stepped out of sight onto the balcony. I then heard a laughter and then a scraping of pot, which I believe must have been dead by now, the last time I stepped outside the balcony was 3 years and 67 days ago. When Titus insisted that we take a break from our little chats and have some breath of fresh air. However, on that day we saw something very odd and disturbing which led to our last day of opening those doors. I put the strands of pasta on the boiling pot. I prepared the other stove and dropped the sliced salmon on the pan. While I mix the cream and other ingredients on the bowl.

"Hey, Lexa! You have dancing naked man across the street! Have you seen this?" Clarke said.

She must have spotted the odd disturbance. I ignored it and focused on whisking the cream sauce.

"Hey Lexa, What are you cooking? I'm a vegetarian by the way. Today and every Wednesdays and Fridays. Other days I'm all meat."

A vegetarian! I already commenced cooking! And a hand picked days on when she will be a vegetarian and carnivorous, those are the worst! If vegetarian and carnivorous were actual human being, I think Clarke will be threading on dangerous waters, she will be considered - as a Octavia puts it - 'two timing fucktard'. Cheating is unacceptable in this society and most importantly, to the Wife Project, which leads to an increment on her faults.

Two timing fucktards are intolerable. Octavia has a joke: "How can you tell if someone is a two timing fucktard?... You wouldn't! Until the world decided to play a huge joke on you and let you see the whole new world that little fucktard was doing behind your back!" I assume that she was talking about her past relationship with a man name Macallan. One day Octavia came home and as Raven tells it, "came tearing the whole apartment down, screaming 'that two timing fucktard! Die in hell, you son of a bitch!'" Which she finds highly amusing.

If this were so, then there will be a problem because, yes! Two timing fucktards will  _not_ tell you that they're Vegetarian on Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday, and Carnivorous on Monday, Thursday, Saturday and Sunday. They will wait until the food is timely cooked and served on the table and say, "I only eat vegetable on day 2,3 and 5. Meat on 1,4,5 and 7!" This is not the first time that had happened. 1 year and 23 days ago the Food Consumption Confusion Incident, when Raven suggested that I invited a woman to dinner at my apartment. She argued that with my cooking skills and candle light dinner would make me more desirable, and that I would not have to deal with the pressure of a restaurant environment. "And you can drink all the alcohol you want and stagger back to the bedroom."

Her name was Lorelei Tsing, a Trauma Doctor, BMI 23, wears thick black frame glasses, asian and that was all, her internet profile did  _not_ mention of being a 'two timing fucktard.' Having known that I have to up my cooking expertise, I bought a book on Asian Cuisine, which was a good observation from Octavia. "It will give you points for sexy time." She must have hinting something but I explained to her that we are eating dinner and with the time to prepare, cook the dish and consuming it, would only lead to my next schedule, Bed time. "Sexy time is not on the agenda," I said.

Hence, I prepared the spices and herbs, defrost the lamb, cooked the basmati rice on a timely manner. Chopped the cucumber, carrots...

Everything was served and ready to eat when Lorelei said, "This looks delicious! But I'm a vegetarian." She then insisted that we go to a restaurant and she will buy. However, with 2 hours preparing the dish that I was not familiar with, I felt guilty of leaving the food untouched and so she left and I ate the 2 whole servings of Lamb Nasi Biryani.

2 days later, I was not expecting to receive a call from Lorelei. She had mentioned that she felt guilty for making me cook and wants to make up for it. Against my better judgement, I agreed and this time we met at a Mediterranean Restaurant. I suggested this because they have great varieties for vegetarians. It is a very good choice indeed.

The waiter gave the menu and left the table. Lorelei then excused herself for the ladies powder room and left me to my own devices to choose the food selection for the night. How could she give me the liberty after what had happened 2 nights ago? Inevitably, after learning that she's a vegetarian I chose dishes that are of greens. I think she will be very pleased with my selections.

Lorelei finally came back and we discussed a fascinating topic about Artificial Intelligence. When the waiter finally arrives with our food. I had the shock of my life.

"Oh I'm a carnivorous," she said.

I stared at her. A carnivorous! How presumptuous! Because here I am sitting down with a woman whom 2 days ago declared was a vegetarian and then two days later...

"A carnivorous? I thought you're a vegetarian." I said.

"Yes! I am too! But it's Thursday so I only eat meat."

I stood up from the table, took my purse and never see Lorelei again.

Now Clarke. In this case it might be a good thing. Clarke could leave my life and everything will be back to normal. She had obviously not filled up the questionnaire honestly, or Raven had made an error. Or possibly she had selected her for her high level of attractiveness, imposing her own preferences on me.

Clarke came back inside, smiling at me, as if it meant to heal the damage she had done.

"Seafood is okay," she said.

I looked at the salmon. I had mixed feelings. It is always satisfying to have a solution to a problem, but now Clarke would be staying for dinner. I walked up to the stove and Clarke followed. I flipped the salmon on its other side.

"Oh... Salmon," Clarke said.

"You don't like Salmon?" Feeling my hand gripping the spatula way too tight.

"I love salmon but..."

I knew I should have ended the night earlier.

"It's just salmon reminds me of sushi and I can't stand sushi." She said.

I presume Japanese cuisine is out of the table.

"Salmon is very rich in Protein, Omega-3 fatty acids, Phosphorus, Vitami-..."

"Okay! I'll eat the salmon!" Clarke said, cutting my sentence short. Another fault. I could sense the common quality of Clarke with Raven and Octavia and I was hoping not to dwell on that much longer. I have to process my 'friend' questionnaire fast. With Clarke's piling faults and obvious incompatibility, along with her red hair, with the Wife Project - I knew my night is going to be ruined.

While the salmon remained sizzling on the pan, Clarke continued with her sniffing around. She opened the refrigerator and seemed deeply impressed by the organization: one shelf for each day - that segregates breakfast, lunch and dinner, and stock data pasted on the door.

"You want to come and sort out my place?"

"You want me to implement the Standardized Meal System?" Despite it's benefits, people finds it 'weird.'

"Just cleaning out the refrigerator would do," Clarke said," God knows how long I've never cleaned it," she chuckled, pulling out the ingredients from it. "I'm guessing you'll be needing the Tuesday ingredients?"

I informed her that today is Tuesday and there's no need of guessing. In which I received an eye-roll and a shake of head. I am not enjoying this night.

She handed me the lettuce, cucumber, japanese sesame sauce, mushrooms with an exception of eggs - due to Clarke's restrictions, croutons, grated cheese. And then olive oil, pepper from the common resources area. Clarke then walked up to the wine fridge and pulled out the bottle designated for Tuesday.

"So you cook this same meal every Tuesday. Is that right?"

"Correct," I listed the ten major advantages of the Standardized Meal System, in which she patiently agreed.

"Like riding a bicycle?"

"Precisely." I said.

"So you can cook carbonara even without thinking?"

"Carbonara, with a side of salad and garlic bread, with a glass of red wine. Classic set up. It is like riding a bicycle... If I know how to ride one."

Clarke was laughing. It brought back memories of good old times.

I quickly gathered all the ingredients together and finish up the carbonara, the salad and pull out the garlic bread from the oven. Clarke watched.

"Our dinner seemed to be in a rush." Clarke said.

"Unfortunately, the No Dress Code Incident has disrupted the preparation schedule. All the times we need will be reevaluated and counted for."

I realized at this point we should be reaching half way through eating dinner, however, my brain had been overwhelmed by the predicaments created by Clarke's presence. I went to the whiteboard. Erased and rewrite the new re-assessed Tuesday night schedule. Clarke was examining the food.

"You were planning to eat all this by yourself?"

I had not revised the Standardized Meal System ever since Titus' departure, and now ate twice of Carbonara, salad and garlic bread with an exception of wine due to additional calorie intake.

"The quantity is sufficient for two," I said, "The recipe can't be scaled down to one. It's implausible to buy pasta, opening it and not using all of it."

"Have you thought of buying a tupperware and put the remaining half in it?"

I stared at her.

"Or not..." She said.

"Wastage of food is drastic. Keeping opened goods with an exposure to bacteria, have a high risk of illnesses," I said. "I'm not superman. I don't have a body of steel."

The last part was meant to be a joke, and Clarke reacted by laughing. I had another unexpected moment of feeling good as I continued reassessing the staggered time.

Clarke interrupted again. "If you were on your usual schedule, what time would it be now?"

"7.17pm."

The clock on the microwave showed 9.17pm. Clarke located the time settings on the microwave and changed it. I realized what she was doing. A perfect solution! When she finished, it depicts 7.17pm. No reevaluating. No reassessing. No staggering. I congratulated her on her thinking.

"You've created a new time zone. Dinner will be ready at 7. 35pm. - Clarke time."

"Beats doing the maths," Clarke said.

Her thinking made me intrigued and slipped in the Wife Project. "Do you find mathematics difficult?"

Clarke laughs. "The only thing that I do that I hated the most! I'm terrible at counting. I'm the worst."

If a simple calculation of patron's meal was beyond her capability, what more, with intellectual conversation. It's hard to imagine having a meaningful discussion with a person who's 'the worst' in simple arithmetic.

"Where do you keep your corkscrew?" She asked.

"Wine is not for Tuesdays anymore, Clarke," I said.

"Screw that!"

"With the designated food consumption, the allocated calorie intake will be greater-..."

Clarke cut my sentence  _again,_ "Fuck that! You're having dinner  _with me._ So the calorie intake will still be the same. Screw that corkscrew, I'm opening this baby with my teeth. I hereby, declared alcohol is mandatory in the Clarke time zone!"

////

I was fascinated how strong Clarke's teeth is. I wonder how much can her teeth handles skinning a coconut. As I completed dinner preparation, Clarke set up the table but not in a conventional dining table way, but into a makeshift table at the balcony. Oh the tragic exposure to traffic polluted air. Clarke pulled my coffee table from the living room into the balcony, placed a white curtain over it, silver cutleries, 2 big plates and fancy wine glasses. Clarke Griffin is tearing down my apartment!

I never thought of having dinner at the balcony before. The afternoon rain had began drying up as I brought out the food to the balcony.

"Do we need to eat now?" She asked.

I was confused, when she had mentioned of being hungry hours ago.

"No, but it will get cold... It is already cold," I said, placing down the dinner on my perfectly white curtain. "May I know the reason for the delay?"

"The view. The city lights. Look at it, it so beautiful," Clarke said.

"Unfortunately, it's the No Picture Reference." I said.

Clarke gave me a quizzical look with a tilting head motion, indicating that she was confused. I should thank Raven for the written notes and demonstration.

"The No Picture Reference. It's static. You will look at it once and never look at it again."

"But it does change all the time. What about in the morning, when the sun rises? In the evening when the sun sets? Or when it rains? Don't you come out here, sit and just watch?"

I had no answer for Clarke that will bring her satisfaction. I had seen the view when I bought the apartment. There was no difference up to this point, I do not understand her interjection. And the only times that I sit down is when I am waiting for an appointment or when I am solving a difficult problem, in which in this case interesting surroundings will only be a distraction.

"I guess that's a no," she said.

I walked to the space beside Clarke and refilled her glass. She nodded and smiled. I am very certain that she wore lipstick or a lip gloss. Her lips were perfectly moist and red.

I strived to make a repeatable meal. The meal that is truly designated for  Tuesday nights. However, after the brawl incident, Clarke's conspicuous curiosity and untimely changed in plans, the preparation for the meal was hasten and, if I may add, very laden.

Today's seemed to be of unusually high standard. The carbonara had never tasted so good.

I remembered Raven's basic advice when having a dinner with a woman. She said it will give me a leverage if I let the woman talk. Clarke had already raised the topic of dealing with difficult patrons in a bar, so I asked her and it was a 'bull's eye', according to Octavia's vocabulary. She shared numerous stories that led to us laughing. This was an excellent move. I noted some interpersonal techniques for possible future use.

We finished dinner and Clarke reached for her bag and pulled out a pack of cigarette. A cigarette! Clarke is a smoker! How could a convey the horror? Smoking does not only harms your body but also the people around you. It was terrible enough that we are having dinner at the balcony with the hazard of engulfing traffic air and now, with a cigarette smoke. It is a clear indication why I gave a specific note to Raven, 'No smokers'. Obviously, it was gone unnoticed.

Clarke must have seen the shock on my face. "Relax, we're outside."

There's no point in specifying her errors. It is settled. I will not be seeing Clarke Griffin after tonight. So I let her lit the cigarette and watch that puff of smoke exit out of her artificial red lips.

"By the way, I have a question for you." She said.

"Proceed." I was back in the world I knew.

"Someone told me that the sex drive of a grounder is more than of the sky people. Is that true?"

The sexual aspect of history. The most popular topic that got the society today put on their thinking caps and dwell on the sexual desire of our ancestors. I do not usually participate on the aspect of sexual generic with its relation to history. However, I am capable enough to answer that question. I have read enough articles and literature that touches this topic and I am well aware of the rising questions. It also occurred to me that it could be some sort of code for a sexual advance, but I decided to play safe and responded to the question literally.

"Outrageous," I said.

Clarke seemed very pleased with my answer.

"You've just got yourself a pot of gold," Clarke said, "You've just won a bet."

I proceeded to explain and noted that Clarke's face of satisfaction faded. I guessed she had made is easy her question and my very detailed elaboration of the topic was in fact what she bad been told regarding the bet.

"There are many misconceptions regarding the sexual desire of a grounder and of a sky person. Different levels of sexual desires interdependent on one's personal preference. It does not support the query saying that just because you're on the ground you tend to be more aggressive in sexual aspect or vise versa."

I was just settling into the world that I have always known. The role of a lecturer teaching and sharing my knowledge to my students when Clarke interrupted.

"What about the radiation? There's got to be something that causes the differences between the grounders and sky people."

The complication of toxic wasteland.

"It is very likely that the radiation had affected the human body. People who were left on this earth were greatly affected by this toxic. For example the occupants of the mount weather. However, people who were sent to space were less likely but they did not know this until the hundred had landed. It is difficult to tell if such toxic affects the human desire due to different levels of hormones inside the body. A sky girl can have a high sexual drive compared to a grounder who spend most of their lives trying to survive on the ground."

"Awesome," Clarke said.

"Not really. The human behavior evolved in the ancestral environment. The modern world has more complication as it is."

"Yeah," she said. "I know right."

"Instinct play a very crucial role. A sky person can have a normal desire, however, a grounder can have all their attention for battles and surviving the day without noticing their desire for intimacy."

"Oh do tell!" Clarke seemed so intrigued. A very usual reaction from someone who have less knowledge regarding history.

"As history tells it grounders spends most of their time planning for wars, despite their peaceful era they are still savage with their thirst for blood. Sky people are different and thinks differently. With the comfort and security that space station brings it changes once they landed on Earth. Their life were threatened and see how the world as it is."

"And how does this relate to sexual desire?" She asked.

"The desire to commit coitus with someone magnifies when they interact. In which instincts play a crucial role. Society today, with a simple touch or with a brush of a hand heightens the desire - more so, if that person is attractive. History speaks the differ. Delved with battles and wars, the persona of a strong and show no weakness depicts the desire to spark sexual tension." I said.

"I get that," Clarke said. "Also speaks if the person is attractive?"

"Affirmative. Human's are still prone to the physicality of a person."

"Nice. So which one are you? Sky or grounder?"

Clarke was smiling and seemed very eager for the answer. I simply stated that I was neither. I do not participate in this kind of conversation. It was just a mere elaboration that needed to be taught to a person like Clarke who wants to learn more. The smile on her face disappeared and I continued to elaborate.

"Grounders have open community. Sky people are conservative, which mirrors our society today-..."

"No wonder my mom kept insisting she's a sky person in her past life," Clarke interrupted. I was staring at her, which probed her to elaborate her sentence. "My mom got knocked up in her college days. Having known that she have a child now to raise, she worked hard to be a doctor. I really think she's a grounder, she's open to everything.  _Literally._ So she went gene shopping at her medical graduation party."

"That behavior is very common if you are intoxicated - indicating that it is a party. Society today shamelessly flaunts their nuisance once they have indulged alcohol. Being a grounder have nothing to do-...."

"I get that."

I doubt it. 'Mommy issue' is another misconception when relating to history. Desires for intimacy were simply drove by ones personal hormones and thus, affect how they act upon it based on their community. However, the story is very interesting.

"You're saying your mother engaged in unprotected sex outside her primary relationship?"

"With some other students," replied Clarke. "While she's dating my-..." Clarke raised her two hands with her index and middle finger making a downward movement. "father. My real dad's a doctor. I just don't know which one. Really _really_ drives me nuts."

I was intrigued by the hand movement and was silent for a brief moment to try to figure them out. Were they a sign of distress? Irritation? Not knowing who's her father is? If so, it is something that I was not familiar with. I have to raise this question with Raven and Octavia. And why did she chosen to stress her speech at that point unless... Of course!

"Quotation marks!" I said aloud as the idea hit me.

"What?"

"You made a quotation mark around the word father to easily draw attention that it is not interpreted the usual way. Very clever, Clarke."

"Hey, there you go!" Clarke said, "I thought you were thinking about my minor errors in my ridiculously messed up life and might have something intelligent to say."

I corrected her and followed her quotation mark actions. "It's not minor at all!" I pointed my index finger, draw a straight line down and stabbed a point below it - to indicate an exclamation mark. "You should insisted on being informed." Stabbing hard in the air for indicating a full stop. This was very fun.

"My mother's dead. She died when one of the ambulance caught in an accident few years ago. She never told anyone who my father was, not even Kane."

"Kane?" I tried to indicate a question mark but it turned swiggly line instead, so I momentarily stopped the game.

"My-..." she raised her hands up and wiggled her fingers, "father. Who'd go crazy bonkers if I told him I wanted to know. I grew up wondering but my mom was always crazy tired and anything related to my  _real_ father, she always pushes aside."

Clarke drank the rest of her wine and refilled it again. Her story was sad but not uncommon. It is the usual reaction from people who had suffered the same loss. Although my parents were still alive and well, we still keep in contact, go for dinner and make phone calls. It is my assessment that I have noticed that they lost interest in me some years ago. Their duty as a parents had been completed as I start my own career and survive on my own. Clarke's case is completely different as this includes the stepfather. I offered a genuine interpretation.

"His reaction is natural. You don't have his gene. In the wild, the lions kill the cubs from previous matings when they take over a pride."

"Thanks for the information." She said.

"I can recommend some books about genetics. I know someone from genetics department to offer you more information if you are interested. You seemed a highly intellectual barmaid."

"And the compliments just keep on coming."

It seemed like I am doing very well, and I allowed myself a little moment of satisfaction which I shared with Clarke.

"Excellent. I am not proficient with dating. There are so many social rules to remember."

"You're doing okay, Lexa," Clarke said. "Except for staring at my boobs."

This was disappointing feedback. Clarke's dress was fairly revealing, but I had been working very hard to keep the eye contact.

"I was just examining your pendant. It's very interesting." I said.

Clarke immediately covered it with her hand, "What is it?"

"It is a metal wheel? A gear? I was still deciding which one it is."

Up to this point I was still clueless as to what it could really is.

Clarke seemed skeptical. "Choose," she said. "Wisely."

"A gear." I said, feigning a little question at the end. I hate making guesses. It is deemed more appropriate for closer inspection, to achieve the ultimate conclusion. I told her this.

Clarke laughed. "You wanna go closer to my boobs to-..." hands up, fingers wiggled again, "inspect, my pendant?"

The question is true. "Affirmative."

Clarke grabbed my hand pulled me closer. I staggered on the makeshift table and felt the pendant on my hand.

"It's a gear. It's a metal gear from some unknown, I don't know, kitchen appliances? Maybe? The hell I know. It was already around my neck since I was a baby. My mom said my  _real_ dad gave it to her after their little fun. I think they're drunk and starts messing around which obviously, knocked my mom up. I don't know how much of that story was true."

I let the pendant slipped off my fingers and watched it fall on the slope of her chest. It was a social error but Clarke does not seemed to notice. She had finished her wine and seemed to be thinking about something. It turned out not to be anything profound.

"Want to get another bottle?"

I was a little stunned. We had already finished the entire bottle and exceeds the recommended maximum amount. On the other hand, she smokes so she already have careless attitude towards health.

"You want more alcohol?"

"Correct," she said, in an odd voice. She may have mimicking me.

I went to the kitchen to select another bottle when I noticed the time on the microwave: 11:45pm. I picked up the phone and called for a taxi. With any luck it would arrive before the midnight charge commenced. I opened the bottle, refilled our glasses as we waited.

Clarke wanted to continue with the conversation about her biological father.

"Do you think there's some genetic motivation within us that will let us know if that person is our biological parent?" she asked.

"Of course. Science advances in a very drastic measure." I put a moment of pause. I hear the gear in my head starts wheeling into an idea. "It is crucial for parents to be able to recognize their own children. So they can protect their carrier of genes. Small children need to be able to locate their parents to get their protection."

"Well that's not gonna happen." Clarke said.

"It is possible, Clarke. Our behavior is strongly affected by instincts."

"So you're saying that after all these years, I can still locate my biological father? With-..." her fingers wiggled again, "instincts. That whatever this is, it messes with my head."

"Why don't you ask the candidates?"

" 'Hi! How are you? I'm doing great! By the way, are you my father?' I don't think so!" Clarke said.

An obvious thought occurred to be, obvious because I am an observer.

"Your hair is a very unusual color. Possibly-..."

"Lexa, the first time you saw me is with a blonde hair," she said. "This hair," she pointed on her head. "Came out of the bottle. Great observation professor."

This is a confirmation. There is no backing out now. Clarke just confirmed her incompatibility to the Wife Project. I was right to include that hair dye question. With all the chemicals that were entering her system, there is no doubt that she is living a short life span.

The doorbell rang. I had not mentioned the taxi to Clarke, so I informed her about the changed of plans. She quickly finished her wine and stuck out her hand, seems like I am not the only one who is feeling awkward.

"Well," She said. "It's been an interesting evening. Have a good life."

It was an unusual way of saying goodnight. I thought it is safer to stick with the convention.

"Goodnight. I really enjoyed the evening." Then I added, "Good luck finding your biological father, Clarke."

"Thanks."

Then she left.

I was agitated, a little bit confused as to why but overall not in a bad way. It was more of an overly stimulated night. I was pleased to find some wine left in the bottle. I poured it into my glass and called Raven. Octavia answered and I skipped the pleasantries.

"I need to speak to Raven."

"She's not home," said Octavia. She sounded a bit distant and groggy. Perhaps she had been drinking. "I thought she's having carbonara with you?"

"Raven had sent me the world's most incompatible woman. A barmaid/waitress. Terribly late, a vegetarian on Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. A carnivorous on Monday, Thursday, Saturday and Sunday - a two timing fucktard, Octavia! Disorganized, irrational, exceptionally unhealthy, a smoker, Octavia -  _a smoker -_ can't cook, mathematically incompetent, unnatural hair color, snorts, presumptuous, tore down my apartment. I assume Raven is joking."

Octavia must have interpreted this a signal of distress because she asked, "are you alright, Lexa?"

"Of course," I said. "She was highly entertaining. But completely unsuitable for the Wife Project." As I said this words, the factual reports, I could feel a twinge of regret at my intellectual assessment. I was about to reinstate my statement when Octavia interrupted.

"Lexa, Do you know what time it is?"

I looked at my wrist and realized I was not wearing my watch. Then I realized my error. I had used the microwave clock as my reference when phoning the taxi. The clock that Clarke had manually reset. It must have been 2.15am. How could I have lost track of time simply just like that? It is an uncompromising lesson in the danger of messing around with the schedule. Clarke would be paying the after - midnight surcharge.

"God, Lexa... Just leave me be." 

I let Octavia return to her sleep. As I picked up the two plates, two glasses to bring back to the kitchen, I looked again at the night sky view of the city - the view I had never seen before that was always been there all this time.

I decided to skip my pre-bed meditation routine, leave the makeshift table at the balcony and went to bed.


	4. The Father Project

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The part where Lexa was confused by her interaction with Clarke. Where the two girls works together with a project that eventually, will lead to something better. Enjoy!

Raven laughed, "You know what, Woods. I'd threw her on the wild card!"

"She is unsuitable, Raven." I said as I woke her up from her sleep on her desk.

Raven have an obvious dark circles around her eyes and I have counted 8 yawns for the past 5 minutes, not including while she was talking - which was very disrespectful. She looks terrible and I advised her to refrain from sleeping too late - in which I was once recently guilty of the same error. It was important to have her back on track in order to help me with the Wife Project. She have a packed lunch, which she boastfully mentioned of Octavia making it that morning. So we headed out to the large quad of the university. I had collected caesar salad, mushroom soup and half a turkey sandwich from the Grounder's cafe on the way.

It was a fine day. A little humid but nonetheless, strong temperated breeze. Unfortunately, this meant that there will be a number of people wearing inappropriate clothing sitting on the grass patch or benches to distract Raven. Raven is a 32 years old, proud bisexual, although this information was not vocally announced, however, by action it was very noticeable. On that age and being very single, her sex drive is 'sky roof' - one time Octavia had mentioned. It is my theory that her relationship status may have an affect on her prolonging 'sky rocketing' sex drive - the trust issue was also an additional points. Among of all the single early thirties professors that I had known, they were very eager or more so, desperate to find a suitable partner for life but Raven may be an exception.

"You know what I think?" She said, after winking at the two professors walking towards the Grounder's cafe. "You my friend, needs to get laid."

"Negative." I said, "coitus is just an augmented part of a human being."

Raven seemed very unconvinced, "Lexa, sex is a very important part of being a human. It's for reproduction. Making sure that our species won't extinct!"

Her statement is true and I agree. However, with Raven's continuous believes that I have an abnormal low sex drive, that with a - I quote, with fingers wiggling (very good usage of my learning from Clarke) - 'is a waste from your sexual goddess god gifted body'. I understand the correlation of physiology with sexual desire, it is inevitable because human beings are attracted to things or people that meets their  needs and wants. On the other hand, I did try to imitate and be as expressive as Raven is when it comes to socializing but after occasional attempts it was unsuccessful to the extreme.

We found an empty bench to sit on and Raven commenced on her explanation.

"She's someone I knew, Lexa. You don't have to worry about her." She said.

"But no questionnaires?"

"No questionnaire," Raven affirmed with a definite nod. I was not surprised.

This explains the smoking. In fact, it explains everything that went terribly wrong. Raven had failed again in introducing a suitable partner. She must have seen my expression of growing annoyance.

"Throw away the questionnaire. You're just wasting your time, Lexa. Don't be so uptight. Relax. Be wild once in a while. You'd better be off measuring the length of earlobes, for all I care!" She said.

The sexual attraction on Raven's area of expertise. "There's a relation?"

"People with long earlobes more likely to choose a partner with long earlobes. It's a better predictor than IQ or questionnaires or are they vegetarian or what not!"

"Does this also take affect vice versa?" I asked.

"Sure why not!" Another ambiguous answer from Raven that she always expressed with a shrug.

This is fascinating. Despite how our science and intellectual findings had advanced from our ancestral environment to our current world, earlobes are used to base our future life partner. What more irrational basis are there? No wonder marriage fails!

"So did you had fun with Clarke? Did someone  _finally_ crack the mask of yours and made you smile?" Raven said, purposely elbowing my rib area which I find very annoying.

"Stop." I said and she did. "What you are asking is irrelevant to my goal and it's unnecessary to answer. My evening with Clarke is a waste of time. She is very unsuitable. May I point out again, she smokes, Raven. I couldn't stress that hard enough."

" _But_ did you had fun?" She repeated.

Did she expected another set of different answer? To be fair, I had not given her a proper answer, but for good reason. I had no time to reflect on the evening and conclude a proper response. It was just an evening of whirlwind of emotions.

I provided Raven a summary of the evening and as I approached to the necklace inspection incident, Raven interrupted.

"If you were to see her again-..."

"I am not seeing her again. Zero chance." I conveyed.

" _If you were to see her again,_ " Raven insisted again, this is getting on my nerves. "I suggest don't mention anything about the wife project or questionnaires. Since she doesn't fall for the category."

Ignoring the assumption of seeing Clarke again, I agree that it is a good idea. At that point, our conversation had made a drastic change of direction and this revolves around Raven's sandwich.

"Oth my goth... No. NO. NO. Pickle-th! Pickle-th! Lek-tha!" Raven said with her tongue sticking out with my observation seemed to double in size. Taking notice too of the red patches around her face and neck that soon starts appearing. "Fuck! Octavia pu-th pickle-th on my thandwich! I'm allergic to pickle-th!"

My theory is that Octavia must have felt betrayed for having known that Raven had lied to her regarding her whereabouts last evening. A complete understandable reaction from a person who is in love with you but the sandwich incident, it may be a little too much.

Raven took my water bottle and drank a whole lot but it is implausible to cure her allergy with a bottle of water. I advised her to go to the clinic and have an epinephrine shot in her system. So we headed for the science building and I was not able to ask anymore questions of how she met Clarke. However, I had a few useful information. Raven tends to choose women that are out of the questionnaire. To see her again would be a full contradiction to the Wife Project.

"Woah, Raven what happened to you?!" Lincoln asked, one of the professor from the genetic department. A large population of female university students were lining up for him, unfortunately, he seemed uninterested. I wonder if he's a member LGBT too.

As it looks like with Raven's swollen state, she was not able to answer Lincoln, so I took the initiative. "She had an allergic reaction to a pickle. She needs epinephrine in her system. Could you assist us, Lincoln?"

"Of course! Step right in. I'll call the nurse."

While Lincoln disappeared inside the small room at the far end of the small clinic, Raven seemed to quieten down and unmoved. I am liking her at this state.

"I hate you. You're enjoying my mi-th-ery..." Raven said.

It is true. I am enjoying karma.

////

Riding home, I reconsidered. I could see three reasons that it might be necessary to see Clarke again.

  1. To be able to reach the ultimate conclusion to the Wife Project. I could use Clarke as a bench mark to compare with the women that the questionnaire had chosen. Which shouldn't be too hard, knowing Clarke is the complete opposite.
  2. The questionnaire had not outlaid any perfect match to date. Clarke could be useful as a distraction for the mean time.
  3. Having met Lincoln, a geneticist with a wide access to DNA analysis, and knowledge to interpret it. I have the position to introduce Lincoln to Clarke to help her find her biological father.



Option 1 and 2 are invalid. Clearly, Clarke is a very unsuitable partner. There is no point in interacting with someone who greatly incompatible. However, option 3 deserves a consideration. Just like what Octavia always says, 'there's always a silver lining.' I do not see this as a silver lining but a mere coincidence and a chance to help another human being that is lost. It is a very profound fulfillment to help a fellow someone with a great usage of science. It only goes to show that science can bring us to better heights.

With the resources that I have to assist Clarke in finding her father, I could use the spare time while waiting for the Wife Project to give me a suitable candidate. It's a perfect plan. Another project to embark with a great usage of science. I never felt so alive!

To be able to proceed, I need to establish a point of contact with Clarke. I came to another conclusion that I had not gained her mobile number and therefore, plan B is on the table. Fortunately, I was able to recall the bar that she was working at and scouted the location of The Polis Bar. I did not tell Raven of this plan as this will only create another vertigo of questions and ridiculous waggling of eyebrows - which I find very annoying - after telling her of the zero chance of not seeing Clarke again.

There was only one bar with that name and it seemed to be very popular because of the long line by the main entrance which mostly populated by women. I had modified my evening schedule of gym and grocery shopping to till the following morning to make way for this project. Therefore, I had to purchase an already prepared meal. I was often accused of being unreasonably inflexible but I think this is a great demonstration that I am able to adapt from the strangest circumstances.

I arrived at the bar at 7.17pm and the line was growing but only to find that it only opens at 9pm. 9pm! The line is very long! These women are willing to stand outside for 2 hours just to get inside the bar? No wonder their next day job produces insufficient amount of work because they deemed to be too tired with lack of sleep.  _Incredible._

I ate at the nearby seafood restaurant. By the time I managed to crack open a whole chili crab and finish it in one sitting, and return to the bar, it was already 9.34pm. There was a security personnel and I prepared myself just like the other night. When I approached him, he looked at me from top to bottom and said, "You do know what kind of place this is?"

I am very familiar with bars. In fact, I made a full report of my experience in each bar that I had visited every time I travel. I generally go to the nearby bar from the hotel, enjoy my alone time with a company of alcohol, comes back to my hotel room and write a full report on my experience. Raven and Octavia was not very fond of the idea, they said it ruins the drinking experience. But I highly doubt so, I find it highly fulfilling night.

I wondered if I had come to the right place. The most recognizing characteristics of Clarke is that she's a female and with a huge tits - base on Raven's introduction- and most of the patrons of The Polis Bar are mainly female with the same attribute. It might take some time to find Clarke after all. I observed the general crowd and noted two women saw me looking at them and one smiled broadly and nodded. I smiled back. It seems like a very friendly crowd.

However, the goal is to find Clarke. I walked up to the bar and the 2 women followed me. They both sat on the either side of me. The blonde one was wearing a low cut blouse and skin tight leather jeans. Breast implant might be involved because her big boobs were very obvious, was not even. She should get that fixed. Meanwhile, The brunette is more well kept with white shirt and leather jacket, skinny ripped black jeans.

"I haven't seen you here before? Perhaps new?" The leather jacket asked.

I gave her a simple reason. "I've never been here before."

"Oh fascinating! Can I buy you a drink?"

"You're offering to buy me a drink?" It was an unusual proposition from a stranger, and I guessed I would be obligated to reciprocate the same way.

"You betcha," she winked and leaned closer to me. "What can I tempt you with?"

I told her anything will do and immediately, look away - in which in every social situation, I was starting to feel awkward and nervous. Then Clarke appeared from the other side of the bar with her hair up in a pony tail and black shirt with 'The Polis' printed on it. What a huge relief! I had came to the right location and Clarke is working. The leather jacket waved at her and ordered 3 Heinekens. Then Clarke saw me.

"Lexa!" She seemed very surprised. It was reasonable since I did came unannounced.

"Good evening, Clarke."

Clarke looks at us and asked, "are you guys together?"

"In fact, yes!" The silicon breast said, placing her arm over my shoulders. I automatically flinched.

"I think Lexa is here to see me," Clarke said.

"Correct." I said.

"Well sorry for interrupting your social life with beer orders. Jeez. Can we have our drinks now? God..." The leather jacket said to Clarke.

"We can use DNA," I said to Clarke. She blinked and tilted her head, a sign of another confusion with a lack of context. Obviously. "To identify your father. DNA is the sole solution."

"Sure!" Clarke said, exceptionally widening her eyes. "'hey can I have your DNA? Cause I think your father. Let's find out shall we!' Nope! I don't think that's gonna work, Lexa. Just forget about it. I was just blowing off some steam. Ranting about the past that doesn't matter anymore."

"You could collect it." I wasn't sure how will Clarke react to the next part of my suggestion. "Discreetly."

Clarke was silent. Still staring at me. She wasn't blinking, could be a sign of momentary relapse. Or maybe she was considering it or either that, or kick me out of the bar.

"And who's gonna test it? Do you even know how to test a DNA?"

"No. I can learn it but it will take time and resources. Fortunately, I know someone who already have the expertise. Lincoln." I said.

"Lincoln?"

"Yes. A geneticist at the university. I can talk to him to help you out."

"You would do that for me?" Another hint of surprise.

I nodded and explained to her how the process works.

"You're saying if I got a sample, we could find out if that man is my father?"

"Yes. How many samples are thinking about?" I said.

"Probably one. I have a strong feeling about this man. He's a family friend." She said.

Silicon breast coughed loudly, and Clarke quickly walked to the fridge and took out two Heineken and gave it to the two women. The leather jacket placed a fifty on the counter but Clarke waved them off. Another social technique that I've learned.

So I coughed loudly too and Clarke took her time to stare at me, trying to interpret the meaning and then finally took out another beer.

"What do you need?" She asked, "what samples can I give you to test the DNA?"

I explained to her that generally geneticist would use inner cheek scrapings but it would be implausible to obtain a sample without gaining the suspect's knowledge. "Blood is an excellent source but skin scrapings, mucus, urine-.."

"Pass," said Clarke.

"...-faecal material, semen-.."

"It keeps getting better!" said Clarke, depicting her widening eyes once more. I advised her to have her eyes check by the optometrist, she might be needing a set of prescribed eye glasses. She shakes her head and ignored her health  _again._ "Oh here's an idea. I can screw a sixty years old family friend in the hope that he turns out to be my father."

I was shocked. "You'd have sex with a-..."

"Lexa! I was just joking! Relax! Gosh..." Clarke explained.

Joking! On such a serious matter!  _Unbelievable._ It was getting busy around the bar and there had been a lot of coughing signals going on. An effective way of spreading germs and diseases. Clarke wrote a telephone number on a piece of paper and said.

"Call me."

////

The next morning, I returned with some relief to the daily routine that was severely disrupted over the past few days. Grocery shopping, exercising and reflection was interrupted and I was in great need of this routines to get back on track.

A woman had given me her phone number and told me to call her. More than the No Dress Code Incident, The Balcony Dinner and even the excitement of the Father's Project, this had disrupted my world. I knew that it happens all the time: people in the movies, tv shows, and books, they all did what Clarke did to me. But it  _never_ happened to me.

No woman had ever so casually, automatically, unthinkingly written down her phone number, given it to me and said, 'call me.' I had been included to the 'club' that I always thought was closed to me. Of course, it is logical for Clarke to give me her number because of the Father Project, but I could not shake off the feeling that once I call Clarke, she would then realized that she made some kind of an error.

After spending my quick pace to the market, collecting my good from the designated stalls. I resumed analyzing the Clarke situation. I realized that my action was more driven by instinct than logic. There are far more suitable people to help and far more important projects to embark on, compared to the Father Project. And of course, I should be giving higher priority to the Wife Project. Better to advise Raven in picking a more suitable match on the Wife Project and this time, it better match up with the important criteria. My routine is already disrupted by the blonde with big tits and I cannot afford another incompatible candidate.

It is logical to contact Clarke and explain that the Father Project is a no go. I phoned her at 6.53am and left a message to call me back. When I hang up, I realized that my palms were sweating and I felt more dehydrated than ever. I hoped I wasn't developing fever.

Clarke called me back while I was having one of the lecture. Naturally, I turn off my phone at such timings, but I was anxious to put the problem to bed. I was feeling stressed out at the possibility of interaction in which it was necessary for me to pull back from the project. Speaking on the phone in an auditorium filled with students was quite awkward, most especially when you have a lapel microphone on. They can hear my side of the conversation.

"Good afternoon, Clarke."

"Hey Lexa, I just wanted to say how much this means to me what you're doing. So thank so much, Lexa for helping me out. I didn't realized how much it had been eating me up and now that I finally have the chance to find out my real father is, I owe you a big one. Hey, do you know the cafe just by the campus - the Grounder's? 2pm tomorrow? Possible?" She said.

Now that Clarke had accepted the offer, there's no way that I can back out. It will be immoral and a breach of contract to withdraw from it. I'm stuck with the Father Project.

"The Grounder's Cafe. 2pm." I confirmed, although I was temporarily unable to access my schedule inside my head due to overload and the number of eyes watching and listening to the conversation.

"You're a star," Clarke said.

Her tone indicated that this was the end of her part in the conversation and it was my turn to reciprocate at the same level. And the simple and obvious reply would be, 'your a star.' But I realized that it doesn't make any sense. Since she's the contributor of my star-ness due to my reliable resources in finding her biological father. Upon reflection,  I could have replied on a more conventional statement like 'see you' and 'goodbye' but due to lack of time for reflection. There was a huge pressure to reply at a timely manner.

"I like you too."

Then the entire auditorium exploded with applauses.

A male student at the front row said, "smooth, man." He was grinning very widely.

Fortunately, I was accustomed to creating hilarity unintentionally and I was used to this kind of reactions.

I did feel too unhappy with the failure of terminating the Father Project but another problem have raised. I have not spoken to Lincoln. So after the lecture I made my way straight to the genetics department and found him eating a sandwich by the corridor, seemingly watching the group of female university students below.

"Lincoln."

"Oh hey Lexa. What's up? Is Raven alright now?" He asked.

"Affirmative. She's functioning well and back on her feet. I have a proposition for you."

Lincoln nodded and listened carefully. Attributes that I like about him.

"I need your expertise on genetics."

"What for?" Lincoln asked.

"I know an acquaintance who's looking for her biological father and I believe you would be of service." I informed him.

"What is it for me?" He leaned against the railings, folding his arms.

A bright idea came into mind. Knowing that he's in his early thirties and with known knowledge that majority of the professors that are young and not in their 40s or 50, are in their desperate stage of finding a suitable life partner. I know this because I am experiencing it.

"A date to the ball." I offered.

"A date huh? Do tell." Lincoln seemed very intrigued. Very well.

"Octavia is her name. Single. Love sports, same as you."

"Octavia, aye," He rubbed his chin and then frowned. Is this a bad sign? I knew I should have sell Octavia in a more pleasing and intriguing concept. I need to create a powerpoint slide! "Okay, you got yourself a deal." I was astounded, Lincoln agreed. He reached for my hand and gave a firm shake. Lincoln is a closed deal.

Now, I have another problem to deal with. Octavia.

I knocked on Raven and Octavia's apartment at exactly 7.30pm. Their appointed time for dinner. Raven opened the door and ushered me in but I declined.

"I need to speak to Octavia please."

"She's inside. Come in." Raven said.

"Here will be just fine. Please call Octavia for me. I have an important matter to discuss with her."

Raven looks at me for a moment and then disappears to the kitchen. Octavia soon came out. "Hey Lexa. What's up? Come on in. We're having dinner."

"Not necessary." I was already running out of time with my gym and dinner piling on the top of each other, I have to make this conversation fast. I can't believe Clarke is disrupting my daily routine  _again._ "I have a proposition for you."

"Proposition?"

"Yes. In order to move on from Raven. It is a general knowledge to move on to another species. And I have someone whom I believe would be a suitable candidate for you." I said.

Octavia was silent for a moment. As if she's analyzing a very tough sentences when I already simplified the idea enough.

"So you're saying... You have someone  _for me?"_

"Affirmative. His name is Lincoln. A genetic professor at the university. He loves to go to the gym. He loves sports. And his physicality is astounding. You will be very pleased." I informed her.

She stared at me again, in silence. "You're kidding me right?" And she started laughing.

"No. He had agreed to meet you and you will be his date on the university ball. So Octavia Blake will you be Lincoln's date to the ball?" I need to push harder. I'm already wasting precious time. Dinner is already late.

Octavia was still laughing which I find very confusing as I had not find any amusement nor hilarity at a very serious matter. "Sure, sure why not!" Bursting into another fit of laughter.

Pushing the empty context as why Octavia finds it highly amusing, I finally get a confirmation. Lincoln and Octavia is a deal closed. And now I have to deal with the Clarke situation. This is time consuming than I thought.

////

We met at The Grounder's the next day at 2.09 pm. Needless to say, the delay was all because of Clarke talking to her female companion as they entered the cafe. Can't she see that she's already late? I do not understand this kind of human beings. They have to set their priorities straight.

"Hey, Lexa! Thank you so much for doing for me," Clarke said, taking the seat opposite from me.

"You need to collect the DNA sample in various forms. It is up to you in what form," I slid the list of ways to extract DNA, which Clarke frowned upon. "Send it to me. I will work it with Lincoln at the genetics department. We have to-..."

"Wait! Wait! Lexa! Where's the fire?"

I stared at her.

"You're talking too fast. I'm still trying to process this entire thing. I'm confused." She said.

Unbelievable, 3 minutes is up and 2 more minutes to present the entire process of getting the result - with 1 minute spare to run to my next class. My students will be sitting in the auditorium at 2.15pm without a lecturer.

"Follow the steps written down, Clarke. I have elaborated the means and ways how to obtain the result and it's your part to obtain the DNA. I do not see the reason to be confused. Everything is already over simplified."

"Okay, Genius!" Clarke widened her eyes. Very much like Raven, when she taught me about exaggeration and sarcasm combined together. I am getting good at this. Clarke read the step-by-step process and nodded accordingly. "So you mean if I scape his cheek then I'll get the DNA. Easy enough. I'll just say there's something on his cheek and scrape it. This is easier than I thought."

Among all the DNA extraction, she chose the most obvious and implausible one. Barmaids really have no knowledge about genetics.

" _Inner_ cheek, Clarke."

And Clarke stares at me with her lips forming an 'O'.

"Oooohhhh... Well that's out of the question," She said, widening her eyes again. Exaggeration cum sarcasm. Noted. "Well what about the blood extraction? Maybe I'll 'accidentally' " her fingers did the wiggling action, "poke him with a knife and wipe away his blood."

I do not know if Clarke was taking this matter seriously, considering finding her biological father is the main aim. However, the smile that she was showing - it deemed she must be.

"I don't think that's an appropriate action, Clarke. Considering he is your family friend it will shake your relationship."

"Well at least I managed to get his DNA. All's done!" Clarke said. "And it's more accurate!"

I have done projects that are more intellectual and difficult to process. I have done projects that are with no conclusion or no aims were accomplished. I have done all of these projects with fair and just, and critical evaluation with every step not taking too lightly. Every project I embark is with pure determination to achieve the ultimate goal and hence, no "joking" around are attempted. I take things seriously, most especially on matters that will change the world.

However, Clarke is the total opposite. It is her ultimate goal to find her biological father. I do not understand why is she taking this so lightly and 'joke' around - which is a great waste of time. So I have to do what I have to do. It needs to be done. My 6 minutes is already up and my students are already seated in the auditorium not learning anything.

"We will do the DNA extraction together-..."

Clarke cut my sentence, "AWESOME! I'll call you when we can meet! Mission accomplished" Then she stood up, winked at me and added, "Hasta la vista, baby!" And walked out of the cafe.

For one, I had came to understood more of the different ways how human beings interact. I deeply appreciate Raven's effort to explain this to me and it is very useful in my everyday life, most especially when dealing with Clarke Griffin. I came to conclude that my knowledge to different body language and connecting the relationship with their spoken words, are inexplicably gaining. With one conversation with Clarke Griffin I could cover Raven's entire syllables of  Teach Lexa Social Behavior Manual. It was quite fulfilling.

However, the problem raised and got me wondering was the 'Mission Accomplished' part. Was Clarke talking about the conclusion in our brief conversation? Or was she pointing out on us working together to extract DNAs on suitable candidates? Reflections like this takes time. I am learning something new everyday and every learning outcomes, comes with a reflection.

I am 10 minutes late for my lecture and Clarke situation is still occupying my thoughts. She is indeed a great waste of precious time.

/////

We arrived at the residence of Dr. Quint, the suspected father, on the Saturday afternoon. Clarke had telephone in advance. Dr. Quint looked older  _and bigger_ than I expected. I guessed he's in his 60s., BMI 28. Quint's wife is Nygel, perhaps in her late 50s, BMI 25, who made us a cup of coffee - as predicted by Clarke. I didn't touched the cup. This is critical, as we have decided that the cup-rim would be a good source of saliva. I sat beside Clarke on the sofa opposite Quint and Nygel. I find it hard to keep away from Quint's cup.

Fortunately, I was not required to make small talks. Quint is a trauma doctor with an avid fascination about historical medical treatment and we had a delightful discussion about medical history. Quint was finally done with his cup and Clarke stood up to take it to the kitchen. Which where she will be able to swab the cup-rim for DNA sample. That was the plan, as to what Clarke had mentioned. Being old traditions as Quint and Nygel are, the youngest are expected to do the chore, which to Clarke's part was 'my life sucks', however, in this context she was more than willing to do. Unfortunately, Nygel stopped her.

"That's okay, dear. I'll do it later," Nygel said.

"Oh no. I insist." Clarke said, taking Quint's cup and her cup.

"Oh alright. You can help me out."

They went to the kitchen together. It was obvious that Clarke will have difficulty in collecting the DNA sample with Nygel's presence. I can't think of a way to take Nygel out of the kitchen.

"Did Clarke told you that I studied medicine with her mother?" Quint said.

I nodded. If I had been a psychologist, I would have used my skills to read Quint's verbal and body language to infer if he's lying. Then I can ask questions to trap him. But I am not, hence, I can not reply on this skills. If Clarke accomplished in obtaining the DNA sample, it will provide a far more reliable outcome than studying behavior.

"May I offer some encouragement, Lexa," Quint said, "Clarke's mother is a wild child. Everybody adores her, she beautiful and smart. She could have anyone. But I was surprised that she took the guy on the left field who persisted and stuck around."

I was lucky I wasn't looking for clues. That psychologist skills are out of the equation because I was never good at reading facial expression. More so, I was giving him a incomprehensible expression.

"I suspected Clarke must have followed her mother's footsteps."

"In what component in life?" I asked.

I was not certain if Quint was talking about Clarke's mother getting pregnant during her college days or dying. It is safer to seek clarification. For this are the only facts that I know of Clarke's mother.

"What I meant was, Lexa I can see that you're good for her. Clarke had a tough life. She had gone through so much in her life and you being with her... It's good for her. She's a good kid, Lexa."

Now the intent of the conversation is clear. Despite, Clarke is a little too old to be called a kid. Quint presumed that I was Clarke's girlfriend. Which was an understandable error. It is only right to deny the assumption but this will include another lie, so I decided to keep quiet and led him on. What followed next was a loud shattering of china.

"Honey, is every alright?" Quint called out.

"Just broke a cup, love," Nygel said.

Breaking a cup is not a part of the plan. Presumably, Clarke must have dropped it when trying to take it away from Nygel's hand or perhaps hiding away from Nygel's line of vision and due to nervousness, drops it. I was annoyed with myself as a professional, I had not thought of a back up plan. How could I be so naive? It's embarrassing. It is now my responsibility to find a solution. Deception would have been a great skill to acquire but I was never good at it.

I have to seek a legitimate reason to gain DNA.

"Quint, have you heard of the-... Grounder ritual project?" I hoped that he did not noticed my stammer.

"No," Quint said.

I explained to him that with a usage of DNA we could trace back his ancestry. Having known that many academics are fascinated with the Grounder ritual and history I added the perks.

"You will find if you're ancestor was a part of the Grounders." I said. "We could do it by scraping your inner cheeks for a start and you can send it to me."

"Let's do it now, before I forget!" He said, "Will blood do?"

"Blood is the best DNA for testing but-..."

"I'm a doctor. I can do it." Quint said before standing up and left the room.

I could hear Nygel talking to Clarke from the kitchen.

"Have you talked to your father?" Nygel asked.

There was a silence.

"Lexa seems nice," a statement that caught my attention. Excellent. I'm doing great.

"Just a friend," Clarke said.

If she only knew how many friends I have, she's doing me a favor.

"Oh well. I like her. She might be good for you, darling."

"Don't. You know how it is." Clarke seemed to soften his volume down.

"Clarke, different people have different ways of dealing with relationship. Your mother-..."

"Can we not talk about her?"

Seconds later, Clarke and Nygel  entered the living room with at the same time Quint entered with his doctor bag. Nygel being a retired nurse, helped Quint extract blood and excitedly handed it to me. I gave it to Clarke for safe keeping, which she took with trembling hands. She must be nervous because we have achieved the ultimate goal. I was complying on the social norm of how to calm down someone when they're nervous. In this case, a time to talk and hug it out - according to Raven's expertise - will be out of line. So I grabbed her hand, look at her in the eyes and nodded.

Clarke turns away. 

"Thank you for your time, Quint, Nygel. It's been lovely." I said. 

Nygel moved closer to Clarke, "Honey, remember what I said. Okay?" 

Clarke smiled. She seemed uncomfortable. 

"Well! It's great seeing you Clarke again. And Lexa, it's a pleasure to meet you. I hope to hear from you soon." 

He must be pointing out on the non-existed project. I have to make up an excuse very soon. We exit out of the household and I noticed that Clarke was being fidgety. I know in within few seconds she'll break her silence. 

"Can we test it now?" 

////

The University ground was very quiet. This only goes to show the under utilized laboratories in the weekends. I phoned Lincoln in advance in case this kind of situation arises and I was right. He was already at the genetics building, waiting, with his sandwich in hand. 

"Lincoln." 

"Lexa." He said, "And you must be Lexa's acquaintance. Pleasure to meet you." Shaking Clarke's hand. 

Clarke looks at Lincoln and then me and smiles, "Clarke Griffin. It's nice to meet you Professor. Thank you for doing this. This really means everything to me."

"Oh don't thank you me," Lincoln said, elbowing me on my side. I had enough of this none sense.

"Lincoln, please show us how to process the DNA so we can be on our way." I said, not wanting to waste anymore time with inappropriate activities. 

Lincoln quickly nodded, took the samples - Quint's and Clarke's - and maneuvered around a machine. He dictated each step that he was doing, explaining each step and it's purpose. He was very knowledgable. A true professor should be. I knew I never doubted coming to him with this project. 

But perhaps, I'm starting to have second thoughts. 

"So... You and Clarke huh?" Lincoln said, while waiting for the result to process. 

I ignored his inserting comment and walked over to the corner of the small room, where it used to be a tea-room with sink and refrigerator. A cough echoed and I knew in an instant who it was. Clarke must have finally came back from the ladies. Clarke coughed loudly again and I recognized the code and I pulled out three cans of beer - assuming Lincoln would want one too. It's customary to offer beverage to someone who is helping you, even if that means using the laboratory in a restricted and discreet manner. 

I explained to Clarke again the entire process, since human mind need a trigger to remember certain facts. 

"I can't believe it's this easy. This quick. I mean- I always knew at some level that he might be my father. He would always come by the house and play with me. Always buying me gifts every time he went overseas." Clarke said. 

"For a family friend, that's a very normal thing to do, Clarke. Having known you're the only child." I said. It is important not to give too much hope for someone who had spent a life time wondering who their real father is. I should know, I've gone through the same - but not in the same context as Clarke. 

"Yeah. Guess so," Clarke shrugged, taking the seat beside me. I moved slightly away to give us space. Because God forbid, Clarke loves invading personal space. 

Lincoln must have seen the downcast on Clarke's face. I would have reacted the same way and not experience the scene that will soon unfold. 

"Well uh... The result will come out very soon. I'll just head out and um-... Yeah!" And left for the door. 

"One time Quint bought me a chess set. Kane bought be girly stuff - pink dresses, tutus, pink plastic crowns. It's pretty weird sometimes but  I know he's trying." 

"You play chess?" I asked. 

"Duh!" Clarke said, I wonder if she have something in her eyes. She rolled her eyes before looking at me again, "I'm the best of the best! I always beat Wells in every game! And that's what I like about Quint. He respected that I have a brain. He and Nygel never had kids of their own. So I always have a sense that they're always around and always treat me as their daughter. Always thought of him as my mom's best friend but never really as my possible father." 

"He's not," I said. 

The result had come up on the computer screen. The project is complete. I began packing up. 

"Wow," Clarke said, "Do you ever think of being a grieve counsellor?" 

"No. I've considered careers that are generally related to history and science. My interpersonal skills are not something I possess. So being a counsellor never crosses my mind." I said. 

Clarke bursts into laughter. It was very unlady like. "Well, my friend," she said, "you're about to get a crash course to grieve counseling. Let's go." 

It turned out that Clarke was making a joke. Apparently, her crash course for grieve counseling was through a demonstration of drinking alcohol. We went to The Ark restaurant which was conveniently a short distance from the university and as usual, the place was crowded with academics. We sat by the bar, and drinks. I was astounded to find out that a barmaid as Clarke was, has minimal knowledge about wine. Raven and Octavia insisted on bringing me along on their wine appreciation day, which Octavia insisted that it will impress the ladies. I didn't doubted her. So I did my research and experience, I can say I am very familiar with the wine that they served in this restaurant. We drank quite a lot. 

Clarke stepped out to due to her nicotine addiction when I saw Raven with Octavia exiting the restaurant - holding hands. What are they doing in a restaurant like this? Are they have wine appreciation again? Had Raven finally came to her senses and reciprocate Octavia's unrequited love? Neither saw me, and they went past too quickly for me to say anything.

My confusion and wondering mind at seeing them together must have contributed to my next decision. A waiter approached me and asked, "There's a table for two just come free. It's a perfect window seat with great ambient atmosphere. Are you eating with us?" 

I nodded. I would have to cancel my time at the gym resulting in lack of health structure. Instincts had again displaced logic. 

Clarke's reaction at the found window seat was positive. I was glad that I did not made a pass and let myself enjoy the wonderful meal. The food was exceptional! A medium rare steak (Clarke's choice as being Saturday), caesar salad and chicken risotto (Me), bread sticks and garlic break (shared) and "lusty Ménage à Trois 2012 Zinfandel, ladies. Rich vanilla-scented wine promises passion and pleasure. The perfect way to spice up a romantic night!" The waiter said, filling up both of our glasses. 

I stared at the waiter. Of course, I have known that. I have done the research and experienced the taste of it. That's why I selected it. Berry jam flavored and with a hint of pepper, very lovely. Clarke made an in audible sound as the waiter left the table. 

"I think he thought we're on a date," Clarke said. 

"Probably." I said. 

"But we're not?" 

What is there to question when the answer is obvious. I nodded. 

Clarke smiled and looked away. 

I tipped my glass and tasted that smooth liquid down my throat. Clarke spent much of the entire dinner trying to explain why she's trying to locate her biological father. If the situation were different and the project is still on going, I would have found this information very resourceful. Having mentioned the 'wonderful' (Clarke wiggled her fingers) possibilities that she and her biological father could do together to make up for lost time. Conversely, Kane did tried to be the best father he can be to Clarke, but Clarke have numerous complaints about his performance. He has mood-swings, hardly had time for her, inconsistent attitude towards her and very egoistic. He was also strongly opinionated to 'girls liking boys _and girls_ ' (Clarke wiggling her fingers). I consider this as a defense mechanism since he works closely with catholic churches. It is inevitable to have raising eyebrows. I should know, I had experienced it as being an academic. 

Clarke's motivation to search for her biological father was obvious - acceptance and love from a person she had not known her entire life. It was clearly a point of happiness for her. Unfortunately, the project was over. 

Clarke finished her macadamia souffle and excused herself for the 'powder room'. It gave me time to reflect on the happenings of the day. My none-eventful day was about to end with an enjoyable dinner with a woman, which was a significant achievement that I feel excited of mentioning it to Raven and Octavia. 

I concluded that the lack of problems was due to three factors:

  1. I was in a familiar restaurant. Drank a very good wine. It never occurred to me to bring a woman - _or anyone -_ to The Ark, which I had only previously used as a source of wine. 
  2. Clarke was not a date. I had rejected her compatibility to the Wife Project and as a potential partner. We were together because of a joined project. It was like a meeting. 
  3. I was somewhat intoxicated to certain extent - hence, very relaxed. As a result, I may also be unaware of my social error. 



In the of the meal, Clarke finally came back and I ordered another two more glasses of wine and said,

"Who do we test next?" 


	5. The Clarke Time Zone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The part where Lexa and Clarke embarked on a journey of meeting and stealing DNA samples from Clarke's "potential" candidates. at the same time a little snippet on our favorite blonde girl's discreet actions. keep a look out for that! (as for lexa... well, it's Lexa, come on, oblivious as ever.)

Besides from Quint, Clarke knew of only two other 'family friends' form her mother's medical graduation class. It struck me that after eliciting sex from Clarke's mother they would still keep in contact even with Kane's presence. But Clarke's argument went evolutionary with throwing wild gestures that he (the biological father) would wish to keep a closer distance to ensure that the carrier of his genes was receiving proper care. It's so hard to argue with a hard headed blonde. 

The first candidate was Cuyley Ridley, who lives few streets away from the University. While the other was Whitman. 

"Whitman...," I said, trying to convey to Clarke the obvious. 

"Whitman," Clarke shrugs. 

"Yes, Clarke. Whitman... What was his last name?" 

"Just Whitman," She looks at me dumbly, as if I was the stupidest person alive. The hilarity. 

"Look, I will handle them just- Just don't leave me." Clarke said. 

"Why would I leave you?" I don't intend to leave a project hanging and I don't ever intend to. I think I've shown her enough evidence. So I don't understand where Clarke was coming from. 

"Just- Just don't. Okay?" 

Clarke pulled up her hand and stuck out her pinky. An old fashion kiddie promise. Aahh the old days. How I reminisced it. 

"I'm not a child, Clarke."  I quickly said. 

Clarke pouted her lips and kept waving her pinky in front of my face. 

"Come on, Lexa! Promise me! Pinky swear that you won't leave!" She said. 

I sighed and stares at her. "I promise, Clarke. My words are my words. I don't go against it and don't intend to break it. And most especially, I don't pinky swear it." I said before ducking down on my laptop. 

In the corner of my eyes, I could see Clarke shying away. I'm really regretting this project. 

"Fine," I said as I slid my arm across the table. "I pinky swear, Clarke Griffin that I won't abandon this project." 

Clarke grins and grabs my pinky. "Perfect!" She exclaimed and looks at me for a second longer before hastily pulling away her hand and audibly coughs. So I did of what was necessary. 

"Drinks?" I asked. 

Clarke looks up and depicts those pink cheeks. I wonder if its too hot in here. Was the thermostat too high again? Why do I feel the sudden shivers in my skin?

"Please," Clarke said as she clears her throat that turned husky all of a sudden.  

I quickly stood up from my stool and walked over to the fridge to allow some cold air to my face. And I having fever again? Why is my heart beating so fast? I need to consult a doctor. 

/////

After the discussion and sudden unannounced hyperventilation, I was finally back to my normal routine. Although the Father Project still distracts me from one point to another. The extractions of DNA kept entering my head and with Clarke's constant text messaging every morning and evening... I need to clear my head. Thankfully, I was finally back to my safe zone. A zone that I was known for. The historical talks. 

I was tasked to make a talk about the historical significance in relation to race and religion. It was nothing uncommon. I have done this talks a dozen times before and all questions are all the same. But the only difference was, instead of lecturing this to professionals - college students were at my presence. A hand shot in the air. 

"Excuse me, Professor Woods?" 

"Yes, skinny boy from the back," although my description maybe too generalized due to the numerous skinny participants in the audience, it was clear to everyone who I was talking to. 

"uh- oh okay.... You said 'explosion'. How was that?"

"Correct. Subjective. Scientifically proven over millions of years ago."

"So you're saying that there's no God and we came from outer space. Created by this small particles that surrounds us?" The skinny boy said. 

"Correct. Science has proven this-...." 

" _So_ you're saying that you don't believe in God? That we should worship the 'holy' symbol?" He said with wiggling fingers - which seemed to be world widely known - and then gestured at the projector screen. 

"Correct. I know that this is a sensitive topic but to see is to believe." 

"So you don't have faith in God? Then who created the trees? The animals? Flowers? Who created the Earth?!" 

He was already creating a massive arm gestures just like Clarke when she was trying to make a point. I could conclude this as a defense mechanism. Trying to defense and rebut what you believe in. 

"I do have faith, Skinny boy. But let me ask you, have you seen your parents having sex?" 

And that was the last question I ever asked. 

////

Jaha paced around the room as he rubs his eyes. Sighing every now and then before stopping and then moves again. I could sense that this past several times that I visited the Dean's office it always doesn't turn out well. I was hoping this time it would turn positive. I could almost feel it. 

"Professor Woods," Jaha said, finally stopping behind his desk and looks at me, "what have you done again this time?" 

With my discussion with the Dean, he had mentioned that I had humiliated Faith Believer also known as Skinny Boy. I argued that I was simply stating the fact which happens to be 'offensive' to his part. 

"You called out on his mother!" 

"I was stating a point, Professor Jaha." I said. 

"You talked about his parents having sex. Asking if he sees himself being made? If he sees his own mother as she gives birth to him. Asking him of how  _sure_ he was if the woman who gave birth to him was her real mother and if he ever-..." 

I watched Jaha cut off in mid-sentence and sighs again before pacing once more. I think we're making a progress here. 

"I'm starting to think twice of hiring you, Professor Woods. I don't think you're deemed suitable to be a lecturer. I think you should just stick to research." 

I don't understand. When people asked for the truth I deliver them the truth and when people doesn't agree - they will make a huge fuss about it. The hypocrisy of this society is getting bad to worse.

"So you're saying that I should deliver knowledge to this young minds of what the society wants them to see? What about authenticity? The truth? How unconventional of a lecturer will I be if I don't deliver the truth, Professor Jaha?" 

"I hope you understand where I'm coming from, Professor Woods. The boy's parents already filed a complaint and I am not taking this case lightly.... I just don't want you to upset people." 

"Being upset and complaining because your theory is disproven scientifically." 

I left another session with the Dean with him being unhappy again, although I did not broke any rules, and I was being constantly reminded to 'fit in'. I thought we were making a progress when he mentions about moving forward and giving second chances. Apparently not, when Jaha said one more strike and I'm out. This is getting way out of hand. 

As I left his office his personal assistant Alie stopped me and said, "Professor Woods, I think I still don't have you down for the Polis Ball? All the other professors already bought tickets and you're the only one left." 

As I walked back home that evening, I could feel my chest constricting of what Jaha had said. If I can't 'fit in' with the department then I could not fit in anywhere else. 

////

_**First subject:** Whitman. _

Since he lives the furthest I believe it is easier to tackle him first and then work our way down. Whitman lives in the suburbs 20 km away from the main city by car. It was a small town called TonDC. Clarke insisted that we take a car in which I was not aware that she owns. 

I stared at it. 

"Are you coming or not?" Clarke asked, opening the driver's door. 

"I wish to live, Clarke," I said. 

Clarke rolled her eyes again, I think she didn't followed my advice to visit an optometrist. I am not surprised since she already paid less attention to her health in the first place. 

"It's a  _fine_ car, Lexa. It's a classic beetle." She said. 

"Where are your side mirrors?" I asked. It is obvious that it was there previously and now there's a missing part. 

Clarke sighed, "I got into an accident few months ago and it kinda flew out. I didn't have time to replace it but it's fine." She said, with a swatting hand gesture. 

"Then how do you know who's behind you? How are you going to make a turn without a side mirror? It's dangerous, Clarke." 

"But I wasn't dead aren't I?" She rolled her eyes again. "You'll survive, Lexa. I'm a fine driver. I had months of practice without a side mirror, I think I know how it works by now." Before hopping in inside the driver's seat. 

Another safety hazard that Clarke Griffin decided to ignore. 

"Kane gave you his car?" 

"Yeah. He bought a new sports car few years ago and I got this baby," Clarke said, caressing the steering wheel. She seemed to have so much compassion with the rusty old car. 

"I thought he didn't liked you. But he gave you his car?" 

"Yupp. That's how Kane is. No love, just stuff," Clarke said, emphasizing on the 'p'. 

The beetle is an ancient piece of vehicle. It's a 20 years old beaten car, handed over to her by Kane. A perfect car to pass down to someone you don't like. It had an appalling fuel economy, little leg room, high wind noise and a none functioning air conditioning system. Clarke confirmed my guess that it was unreliable and expensive to maintain, especially for barmaid like herself. 

When we arrived at Whitman's red suburban house, with a lawn filled with children swing set, bicycles and toys. I knew that Whitman is a family guy but I didn't know that he was widowed parent. Another realization hit me, I had spent the entire car ride listing and elaborating on the deficiencies and health hazard of the vehicle. I had avoided small talks but I had not briefed Clarke on the DNA extraction method. 

"You distract him with a conversation and I will do the rest," I said. 

It was a perfect plan with a usage of both of our strengths. 

However, as we entered the threshold I realized that back plan was needed. 

////

_"Aaaaaaahhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!"_

I was attacked against the front door by 3 children with plastic swords and shields. 

 _"Who dares to enter our kingdom! SPEAK, YOU INTRUDER!"_ A boy in a blue cape, age 7, said - pointing his toy sword at me. I looked at Clarke who seemed to be holding her laughter by the living room. 

"SPEAK UP, INTRUDER! Who is it that you seek?" A girl in a pink cape and a tiara asked, giving me an accusative finger. The other children cheered and demanded until I stood up straighter, raised my chin and said, "I am Commander Lexa. Seeking for King Whitman's presence." 

Then a boy with a blonde hair appeared behind the stairs and approached us, "Commander Lexa, it is an honor to have your presence. I am Commander Aden, the Heda of this tribe. How can I assist you?" 

This is not the back up plan that I was prepared for. 

"I am wishing for King Whitman's presence. Could you direct us to him, Commander Aden?" I said in a formal tone. 

I have respect for this kid for a 12 years old, he answers with formality and respect. Aden nodded once and gestured to the kitchen. 

"It's great to see you again, Sky Princess. Still beautiful as ever." Aden smiled. 

I looked at Clarke who was grinning widely until her eyes met mine. 

"Sky Princess?" I asked. 

"Long story." 

/////

Whitman was standing by the stove, stirring something on the pot. When Aden said, "Father, you have visitors." 

Whitman turns around and automatically smiles, "Clarke! It's been too long! How are you?" He said, pulling Clarke for a tight hug. 

"I'm great. How about you? I'm glad we managed to catch you on your off day." Clarke said, as she continues with her plan with Whitman. It's time for mine. 

I decided to make a quick exit from the kitchen when I heard my name called. 

"And who is this?" Whitman said. 

"Oh! Where's my manners. This is Lexa." Clarke introduced, that I had no choice but to shake the man's hand. 

"Pleasure to meet you, sir," I said. 

"Oh the pleasure is all mine. You got lucky with this one, Clarke." Whitman chuckles. 

In the corner of my eyes, I could sense that Clarke was uncomfortable because yet again, we were associated as a couple. Which was understandable, it seems like everyone knows of Clarke's sexual orientation. 

"A friend, Mr Whitman." I said. That should cleared it. 

"Oh don't be so humble, babe!" Clarke said as she pulled me by the waist and squeezed me tightly. "Yes, Whitman. She's my girlfriend. I'm so lucky to have her." Giving me another squeeze. I never felt so uncomfortable in my entire life. "Right, babe?" 

I assumed I was expected to speak. "Yes, Clarke. I am lucky to have you too... _Babe,_ " I said. 

Whitman seems to buy it and clapped his hand, "this cause for a celebration!" He pulled out three cans of beer from the fridge and handed it over. "Oh you have no idea, Lexa how I longed for Clarke to be happy. After Abby died-... I need to see Clarke to be happy again. Kane- I wasn't so fond of him being a father to Clarke." 

That caught my interest. "How so?" 

Whitman suddenly turns around and starts steering again by the stove. 

"I'm fine, Whitman. I'm a grown up now. I can take care of myself." Clarke said. 

"I know. Of course you are, Clarke. You've grown so fast." Whitman sighed. 

The conversation has turned slow and I have a DNA to collect. I have to make an excuse. Hence, I asked for the direction of the bathroom. I finally found the last door in the hallway when the wild children blocked my path. 

"Where do you think you're going,  _Intruder?"_ The boy in the blue cape said. 

"Yeah! Where do you think you're going, 'commander Lexa'? The pink cape girl said, with wiggling fingers. 

"Commander Lexa, needs to go to the bathroom. May I pass through?" I said. 

"No! Come play with us!" The smallest boy in a jumpsuit, age 4 years old, said. Dragging my hand towards the living room.

I was dragged against my own will by a bunch of children. Did I mentioned I hate children? 

"Here! You can have your own sword!" Blue cape boy said. 

"A dagger too!" Jumpsuit boy said. 

"Make up! Yes! To hide from the enemies!" Without knowing it, the pink cape girl started drawing on my face. I quickly grabbed her hand and she immediately started crying. 

"No. No. No. Don't cry. Don't cry," I patted her shoulders but she only cried harder. 

"You have to let her do her art, Commander Lexa," Aden said, suddenly appearing out of nowhere.

I sighed. "Fine... Hey, hey come on. Continue drawing," I said and she quickly continued grinning widely. 

I will never understand children. 

The more I insisted that I wanted to go to the bathroom  _alone,_ the more the children objected and throws a tantrum. I went to the hallway but the children followed and pulls me back to the living room. This was very annoying, as I had limited time to collect the DNA and I had not factored of the possibility of children's obstructions to the project. Every time I had a chance to discreetly make an escape, Aden would appear out of nowhere and wheeled me back to the living room. It was frustrating. I hate children. 

Finally, Clarke and Whitman emerged from the kitchen. 

"Um Lexa?"

I turned around carefully with a child clinging on my back. "Clarke!" I stammered, suddenly finding my hand holding a toy sword and immediately dropping it to the ground. 

"Let's go, Commander Lexa! The war awaits us!" The pink cape girl said as she tightened her grip around my neck. 

"Charlotte! Get down from Lexa's back!" Whitman ordered. 

Charlotte immediately hopped down and pouted. 

"It's okay, Whitman. We were just playing." I said, glancing back at Clarke.  

"I'm really sorry, Lexa. They're quite a handful." Whitman said. 

Finally, Clarke excused herself to the bathroom. Even if she knows what to do, Aden would have probably watching her because the boy is nowhere in sight. 

"Have you heard of the Ark project?" I said. 

He hadn't and he was not interested. He quickly changed the topic. 

"My children seemed to like you. Do you plan to have children with Clarke?" He said. 

The source of the cough that escaped my lips was unknown. Nonetheless, I ignored it and planned my answer. 

"Yes, sir." I said. 

Whitman seemed surprise and then looks at me strangely, "Do you do any stuff with kids? I mean Scouts, Church groups..." 

"No," I said, "it is unlikely that I'll be suitable." 

Clarke returned with Aden staring at her in a daze by the bathroom. 

"We should be going," Clarke said. 

Failure! Social skills is the problem. With good social skills I could have reached the bathroom with no problem.

"Didn't know you like children," Clarke said as we walked to Clarke's beaten car. 

I stared at her. That was the most absurd thing I have ever heard. "They're fine." I said and Clarke laughed. 

There was a long silence that gave me time to reflect on my lack of social interaction. 

 "I'm sorry," I said. 

"Don't be," Clarke reached for her handbag and pulled out a wad of hair. "I cleaned the hairbrush. Although it might be his children's hair. It still works right? They're still related."

"We need roots," I said. But there's many strands of hair. There must one or two strands that have roots still attached to them. 

Clarke reached for her bag again and retrieved a toothbrush. It took me a few moments to realize what this meant. 

"You stole his toothbrush?!" 

"There's a spare in the cardboard. It time to change into a new one." 

I was shocked by the theft, but we would now almost certainly have the suitable DNA sample. It was difficult not to be impressed by Clarke's resourcefulness. And if Whitman was not replacing his toothbrush at regular intervals Clarke had done him a favor. 

Clarke did not want to analyze Whitman's DNA sample immediately. She wanted to collect DNA for the last candidate and analyze it together. I don't find this suitable because if Whitman's DNA was positive then there's no need to collect from the last candidate. However, Clarke didn't seem to grasp the concept of sequencing tasks to minimize cost and risk. 

After the children disaster, we decided to collaborate on the most appropriate approach for Dr. Cuyley Ridley. 

"I'll tell him I'm thinking about studying medicine," she said. Dr. Ridley was now in the Medical Faculty at Ark University. 

Clarke would arrange to meet him over coffee, which would provide an opportunity to use the coffee-cup swab procedure that currently had failed us before but will still be of great use. I thought it unlikely for a professor to be convinced that a barmaid had the credentials to study medicine. Clarke seemed insulted by this, and argued that it did not matter in any case. We only needed him to have coffee with us. 

A bigger problem arises, how to present me, Clarke did not think she could do the job alone. "You're my girlfriend," she said. "You'll be financing my studies, so you're a stakeholder." She looked at me hard. "You don't need to overplay it." 

"I've been your girlfriend for several occasions, Clarke. I know what to do." I said.

"Good." 

On a Thursday afternoon, we travelled to Ark University with Clarke's beaten beetle. I had to get a good grip for my dear life because Clarke was driving like a maniac. 

"Clarke." I said. "Clarke!" I said louder, grabbing her arm to get her attention, "Will you relax? You're driving too fast." 

"Sorry. Nervous," She said, as she pulled the car in a slower speed. 

"I know that you are but you have to stop ignoring the danger that you're putting yourself into." I said. 

Clarke looks at me for a long time, then looks at her arm where I held her, before looking back to the road. "I'm so fucked up," She mumbled softly. I think she meant it for me not to hear it but even if I did, I did not questioned her. 

I had been to Ark University before. I had several talks and collaborative research with the history and medical department. I know the professors here but not, Dr. Cuyley Ridley. 

We met in an outdoor cafe where throngs of medical students crowding the vicinity to feed their caffeine addiction. Clarke was amazing! Spectacular! She intelligently articulated medicine, especially about being a cardio doctor in which she hoped to specialize. She claimed to have an honors degree in such field and post graduate research experience. 

Cuyley was obsessed with her. He couldn't stop mentioning Clarke's resemblances with her mother. Cuyley interrupted Clarke five times just to point out the similarities in physical and characteristic attribute of her and her mother and I wonder is this an indication of the strong bond that Cuyley have with Clarke's mother - paternity predictor perhaps? I looked for any physical attributes that Cuyley might have with Clarke but I saw nothing intriguing. 

"That all sounds great, Clarke," said cuyley. "I have no power over the selection process but I think I could give a good word for you." His words was appeasing and yet an unethical, assistance. Does this indicate a sign of favoritism and thus, a clue that he is Clarke's father? 

"You're academic background is fine, but you'll have to do the Medical School Admission Test." He said. 

"Already did. Last year," Clarke said. "I got 77." 

Cuyley was looking impressed. "You can walk into Harvard with that score. But we take other factors into account here, so if you finally made up your mind, make sure you let me know." 

I hoped he never goes to Polis Bar for a drink. He'll have a shock of his life. 

A waiter came to give the bill and was about to reach for Cuyley's cup and I automatically stopped him. He seemed annoyed and snatched it away. I watched him walks away with it and placed it on the cart along with the other crockeries. 

Cuyley's phone beeped and he said, "I have to go. Have a meeting to go to. It's been great catching up with you, Clarke. Don't be a stranger. Contact me anytime once you've decided. Cheers!" 

As Cuyley left, I could see the waiter was about to push the cart away. 

"You need to distract him," I said. 

"Just get the cup, Lexa," Clarke said. 

I walked towards the cart. The waiter saw me as I was about to reach for the cup, then he snapped his direction to Clarke's and began walking quickly towards her. I grabbed the cup. 

We met at the car which was quite a walk. And during that long walk, I had time to reflect on my doings, that I, a respected researcher and professor, felt guilty for theft. Should I send a cheque to the cafe? What does a cup worth? Cups break all the time - maybe occasional times but they still do break. 

"Did you get the cup?" Clarke asked. 

I held it up. 

"Is that the right one?" she said. 

I nodded. 

"Did you pay the bill?" I said. 

"That's how I distracted him." 

"By paying the bill?" 

"No, you pay at the counter. He gave me his number and I took off." 

"We have to go back." I said. 

"Fuck them," Clarke said, as we climbed the beetle and sped off. 

What's happening to me?  
  


////

We sped towards the University and the lab. The Father Project would soon be over. The weather was warm but there's dark cloud in the horizon and we were fast approaching. The windows were down. The wind was warm and yet, chilly. I sat here still mulling over the theft. 

"You still obsessing about the bill, Lexa?" Clarke shouted against the wind noise. "You're funny. We're stealing DNA samples and here you are worrying over a cup of coffee." 

"It's not illegal to take DNA samples," I shouted back. 

This was true, however, perhaps in other counties it wasn't. "We should go back." 

"Highly inefficient use of time," said Clarke in a strange voice, as we pulled up at the stop light. She laughed when I realized that she was trying to imitate me. Her statement was correct, but there's moral question involved, and acting morally should be the right path. 

"Relax," Clarke said, "It's a beautiful day, we're going to find out who my father is and I'll put a cheque in the mail for the cafe. I pinky swear," she stuck out her pinky and waved it in front of me. 

To dissipate some of my worries, I pinky swore with Clarke. She chuckles and accidentally knocked her bag at the back seat floor. The stop light turns green even before she can salvage her things. 

"I'll do it," I said as I tried to retrieved her things back to her bag. That's when I noticed a small tore paper with a line of number scribbled on it. I sat down comfortably. "Is this the waiter's number?" 

Clarke took it and examined it for a second before returning her eyes back on the road. "Yupp." 

I watched Clarke where she kept the paper - in her front pocket. The wind was getting warmer, I'm starting to feel uncomfortable. I shifted on my seat and glanced back down on Clarke's front pocket. 

"You missed the exit." I said. 

"I know. We're not going to the lab yet." Clarke said. 

"Where are we going?" I said. 

"To the Beach. You need to relax, Lexa. Stop worrying. I'm about to find out who's my father. I need to relax too and clear my head before anything else." She spoke right at the top of my protest. "Can't hear you! Blah! Blah! Blah! Can't hear you!" 

Then she put on some music - very loud metal music. Now she really can't hear me. 

I was being kidnapped!

We drove for 37 minutes more, with Clarke's heroic speed driving I could sense that we were exceeding the acceptable speed limit. I'm not planning to die any time soon. 

Finally, we stopped at the open car park beside the beach. It was almost empty on a weekday afternoon. 

I felt a nudged on my side. 

"Smile," Clarke smiled at me with her two index fingers pushing my cheeks up to form a smile. I hate people touching my face. "We're going for a walk, enjoy the scenery, then go to the lab, and then I'm going to take you home. And you'll never see me again." 

"Can't we just go home now?" I said, and I realized I sounded like a child. I reminded myself that I'm an adult, who's a decade older and more knowledgable than the person with me. There must be a reason for Clarke why she's doing this. 

"Why are we here?" I asked. 

"I'm about to find out who's my father. I need time to clear my head. So can we walk for 30 minutes and can you just pretend to be a regular human being and listen to me?" 

I was not sure how I can fulfill to be a regular human being but I approved the walking. It was clear to see that Clarke was shrouded by emotions. The anxiety of finally knowing who is her biological father, it's understandable. I respect her attempt of overcoming them. As it turns out, it wasn't much of a quiet walk. Apparently, Clarke's way of clearing her head was through talking. 

We were approaching the end of the pier, when Clarke asked, "What is your life like?" 

I looked at her for a moment. 

"I mean, what's your childhood like?" Clarke shrugged her shoulders, when I didn't answer right away, she continued to speak. "I used to envy quiet people." 

I tilted my head slightly by the uncommon statement. 

"They could just be there and not say anything for hours. You wouldn't know what they're thinking about. Or what's at the top of their heads. Are they making fun of you quietly? Are they watching your every move?" 

I'm concluding that Clarke was trying to relate herself with my personality. I am quiet. Affirmative. 

"I made friends with this girl once and she's incredibly smart and beautiful. But she doesn't know it." She said. 

Usually, in this kind of conversation, I kept my words to myself. Outspoken people like Clarke like themselves to be heard. That's understandable. They crave attention. 

"Did you tell her that?" I said. 

Clarke snapped her eyes to me as if she's expecting me not to speak at all. She shakes her head and smiles sadly, "We played for a week and then she returned to her old self. I don't even know why. You know, like I  _really_ tried to be friendly but she-..." 

Clarke sighed and leaned over the railings. 

"Is our situation nostalgic to you?" 

She looks at me and smiles, "No. You're different... So different." She spoke her last words softly again as if she meant it for herself only. I got a sense that she wanted to be alone. So I walked back towards the car. 

"Hey!" Clarke pulled me by the wrist, "Lexa, where are you going?" 

"You want to be alone, Clarke." I said. 

"No," She blinked a couple of times, frowned and then smiled. Her facial expression was very overloading. "Accompany me." 

Clarke pulled me by the hand and stood by the railings. She took a deep breath and sighed. I mimicked her action to portray my compliance - her expectations of me being a regular human being. 

"So beautiful." Clarke said.

The sunset was indeed beautiful. The breathtaking hue of the darkening sky. The mixture of the blues with streaks of orange and purple. I looked at Clarke and mimicked, "So beautiful." 

There was a long silence as we approached the car on our return. Clarke breaks her silence, "what music  _do_ _you_ like?" 

"Why?" I asked. I realized that Clarke was still holding my hand. How could I not noticed that? I realized too how soft it was. It's good that she moisturizes her hands. 

"You didn't like what I was playing on the drive down, did you?" She said, smiling wider. "You cringed." 

There's no point in lying. It's a waste of effort. "Correct." 

"So, your turn going back. But I don't have the Eagles though." 

"I don't really listen to music," I said. "The Eagles was an experiment that didn't work." 

"You can't go on in life without listening to music. There's got to be something that you like." 

There was another long silence. I counted 23 steps and 4 hand squeezes from the point of my realization until we reached the car. 

"Did your parents listen to music? Anything at all?" 

"My parents listens to music. Oldies. The same genre as the Eagles. As I had mentioned before. Primarily my father. From the era of the 80's, 90's." 

We got in the car and I was not sure if Clarke realized too that we were holding hands. But if she did, she didn't say anything. Clarke got in into the driver's seat and cleared her throat a couple of times before turning to me. Is it too hot again? I feel that the weather was quiet cooling actually. Clarke's cheeks were red again. 

"Alright. Since you can't decide. Let me take you down memory lane. Blast from the past!" She plugged her iPhone to the stereo and activated the music. 

I was just settling on my favorite chair by the window watching the rain pouring heavily with a hot coco between my hands, when I realized the accuracy of Clarke's words. I knew this music. It had been the background music when I was growing up. I was suddenly brought back to my room, door closed, sitting by my desk writing on my diary - talking about my first girl crush - this song was in the background. 

"I know this song!" 

Clarke laughed. "I'd be shocked if you didn't. I thought I'll have to call your mothership to take you back to Mars." 

Rushing back to town, in a beaten beetle, with windows rolled down, driven by a beautiful woman, with the song playing, I had a sense of standing in between alternative universe. I recognized the feeling, which, in any case, grew stronger as the darkening clouds rained on us and the windows won't crank up. It was the same feeling I experienced after the balcony meal and again when Clarke wrote down her phone number. 

Another world, another life, precise and untouchable. 

In simple word...  _Satisfaction._

It was dark when we both arrived at the University. We were soaking wet. With a little help from the expired lubricant that I found from the Glove compartment, which Clarke simply shrugs her shoulders at, I managed to crank up the car windows shut. 

In the lab, I automatically opened two bottles of beer without coughing signals and Clarke tapped her bottle to mine. 

"Well done!" Clarke said. 

"You promised to send cheque to the cafe." I said. 

"I promise," She rolled her eyes again. 

"You were great- amazing," I was unsure of why I changed my word but I am glad that I did. It suits Clarke. I've been meaning to convey this for some time now. Her performance as an aspiring medical student was astounding and highly believable. "But why did you claimed such a high mark on the test?" 

"Why do you think?" 

"So you wouldn't look stupid in front of your father." I said the obvious. 

"Yeah, exactly. To him. To anybody. I'm getting sick of stereotyping. I'm tired of hearing people saying that I'm stupid. Oh the dumb blonde!" 

"I considered you incredibly intellige-...." 

"Sshh! Don't even say it." 

"Say what?" 

"For a barmaid. You were going to say that, weren't you?" 

Clarke deduced correctly. 

"My mother was doctor and so was my father. Its in the genes. And you don't have to be a professor to be smart. I saw your face when I said I got 77 on the test. You were thinking. You were analyzing. Doubting. 'He wouldn't believe her that she got 77 on the test'. But he did. So, put your prejudice away." 

It was a reasonable criticism. Other people would have thought that same thing. I have few friends and don't contact that much outside the university. All of my theory and deduction are mainly watching from the tv or movies growing up. Clarke was definitely not acting as a typical barmaid. She was exceeding the expectation. It was different.  _She_ was different. It proves most people's assumptions wrong. 

The DNA analyzer was ready. 

"Any preference?" I asked. 

"It doesn't matter. I don't wanna make any decisions." She said. 

I realized that  this project was mainly driven by emotions. The project was once again not thought throughly. The entire afternoon Clarke was driven with emotions and thoughts which was predictable, which maneuvers the motivation.

I tested Whitman first, as the hair needs more preparations before testing. I found several roots from the wad of hair, so there's no need for the stolen toothbrush. As I processed them, I reflected on Clarke's top two candidates and which one that she have the highest probability as her biological father. Cuyley Ridley was no match. Which was my prediction, since there was no obvious physical similarities between them. Whitman's children is negative as well, hence, the whitman's toothbrush will be a useless DNA source - Whitman is not Clarke's father. 

I saw how Clarke reacted upon seeing the results. She looks very sad. It seemed we would have to get drunk again. 

"Remember," she said. "the sample's not from him, it's his children." 

"I've already factored it." 

"Of course... So that's it. It's over." 

"But we haven't solved the problem yet," I said. As a scientist I am not accustomed to unfinished projects. There has to be a solution in every problem. Even the difficult ones. 

"Difficulties are predictable," I continued. "Project success needs determination and perseverance." 

"Save it, Lexa. Save it for something that  _actually_ matters to you." Clarke said. 

////

Why do we bother to occupy our time with things that are far less important than others? Why would we risk ourselves getting infected by diseases by taking care of someone who's sick than actually donating at a foundation who helps thousands of sick children? Why would we give our last penny to some random guy in the street when we can volunteer and donate to organizations who helps thousands of homeless people? 

I consider my decision making skills in this situation to be like this. We thought we made a good decision but there will always be a better solution out there. Human beings are programmed to react by their immediate surroundings. We make decisions so quickly that sometimes we don't fully understand or know what is the main motivation. Driven by emotion? Passion? Commitment? Or simply, lack of thoroughly investigation? We react based immediate need, with lack of full understanding as to why we're doing it, which is far less powerful than instinct. We simply see what's in front of us and nothing else. 

This seemed to be a more appropriate reasoning to my continuous interest to the Father Project. Clearly, there are far more important projects that I could tackle to give a better and bigger impact to the society. However, instinctively, I was driven to help Clarke with her more immediate problem. 

As we drink our glass of wine at the Ark, before Clarke needs to go for her evening shift, I tried to persuade her to continue with the project. However, Clarke argued that there was no point because those were the only people that she knew from her mother's graduating class to be that close to her mother. She was not aware of any other. I rebutted that there's dozens more potential candidates and the possibilities are never ending. She then pointed out that the probability of actually meeting hundreds of, mostly male, potential father's would be impossible in which regards to their locations and availability.

Clarke ended it with, she doesn't care  _that_ much. 

Clarke offered me a ride home, but I decided to stay and drink. And it wasn't even Tuesday. I was craving for Clarke time zone.


	6. The Scientific Breakthrough! (Or not...)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The part where Lexa insisted on continuing the father project, even seeking for thorough investigation on her own accord when Clarke left. The part where Lexa insisted for Clarke to continue and showed her her little investigations for possible father candidates. And of course, a little more revelations came about in the end. Watch out for that! 
> 
> Oh gosh Clexa... Enjoy!

Before abandoning The Father Project, I decided to investigate Clarke's estimate father candidates. Firstly, I began some basic internet searches revolving around the names of the previous candidates and the medical graduation class. There was an element of surprise that after decades had passed my internet research had exceeded my expectations. I have found 2 relevant photos!

One of them was a formal picture of the graduation class, with names indicated on the bottom of the one hundred and fifty-two students. The other was taken at the graduation party, also with names. There were only one hundred faces, presumably because some students did not attend. And since the gene shopping occurred during the party (or after) I don't have to worry about the none attendees.

But problem solving includes some luck, the question in relation to the problem was that 'where are they now?' Lucky enough, the internet was being generous, the medical graduates were having a 30th reunion in 2 weeks time. Action is needed immediately.

I ate dinner at home and cycled to the Polis Bar. Disaster! Clarke's not working! The barman informed me that Clarke only works four nights a week, which struck me as insufficient to provide an adequate income. Perhaps she have a day job as well. I knew so little about Clarke, except for her night job, interest in finding her father and her age, which based on her mother's graduation party being thirty years earlier, must be 29. I had not even asked Raven how she knew about Clarke. Although another additional information represented itself, Clarke's mother. Abigail Griffin.

She was beautiful. Very vibrant just like Clarke. It is inevitable for guys not to take notice of her. Now I know where Clarke got her spontaneity.

A barmaid came by and chatted a little bit. She was very friendly, so I decided to order another beer and some nuts and reviewed my notes.

There were one hundred students and 60% of them were males. At that period of times there was a large influx of asian students, hence, defeats the possibility of being Clarke's father with their dark skin or small eyes. There were still a remaining of estimation of 75% - 45 students at the party, but the reunion offered an opportunity for the batch processing.

I had by now deduced that the Polis Bar is a gay bar. On the day of my first visit, I was so focused on my main goal that I ignored my surroundings. But this time with Clarke's absence, I was able to analyse my surrounding activities in detail. It reminded me back in high school, the History Buff Club. We were gathered together due to similar interests. It was the only club that I was involved in.

The only gay friends I have was Raven and Octavia. Which is another aspect of complications. I wonder if Clarke have other gay friends? With her personality and beauty it is inevitable for her not to meet acquaintances - turned - friends, especially in a place like this. But then, was she affected by her workplace that made her attracted to females? It is scientifically proven that humans are prone to act with basis of their surroundings. Was she straight when she first entered the Polis?

"Is Clarke straight?" I asked.

The barmaid laughed, "are you kidding me?"

"Was she straight when she first entered Polis?"

She laughed even more. I don't understand the hilarity.

"Why? Are you interested?" She asked. I am not liking her smile.

"It's for personal queries." I answered.

The barmaid shakes her head, "Clarke is gay as a gay one gets! But!" She ushered me to lean forward on the bar with her index finger. "But... Be careful with that one. She's feisty and aggressive!"

"What do you mean? I don't understand."

She laughed again, "Bed."

"Bed?" I asked, slowly understanding what she meant. "Oh... You had coitus with Clarke?"

She laughs again, ignored my pending question and moved on to serve another customer.

////

The following day, Raven was being annoying. I do not understand what she was trying to get at.

"Lexa, just ask her!" She said, pointing her plastic fork at me.

"I do not see the reason as to why I should do that," I said.

She rolled her eyes and I hold myself from advising her to go to optometrist. Apparently, this important health advises does not work with Raven and Clarke. I presume that something horrible must happen first before they finally take action to take care of their health. The horror of ignorance.

" _Because_ , You jelly! You are _so_ interested in Clarke but you kept denying it."

"I am interested in Clarke. She's a good acquaintance. She's funny and intellectual. But she's not a suitable candidate for the Wife Project. I do not see the reason to waste my time and effort, Raven. When you could have helped me find a more suitable partner who suits the project best. And what is Jelly? I don't remember talking about food."

"Oh my god, Lexa! You're impossible! I don't know how long you're gonna deny that you like Clarke! You literally went to the bar to look for her and here you are complaining about some barmaid that Clarke shagged. And yes, Jelly! _You're_ a Jelly. You're jealous because Clarke shagged some barmaid instead of you," Raven laughed as she hits the top of the table with her palm. Her salad were flying out of her mouth as she does so.

This is the kind of behavior that I despises about Raven. Yes, she is a genius and incredibly beautiful but the way she acts can be very disagreeing.

"I am not jealous," I said.

Raven snorted, wiping her eyes. "Of course you're not," giving me that another eye roll.

I am not jealous. Clarke is extremely beautiful and very attractive. She's highly entertaining and funny. Incredibly smart for a barmaid and this mixed well with her strong personality. It is impossible for other people to not take notice of her. I am not jealous of the barmaid. I am not jealous that they had a coitus. She is an acquaintance that happens to have a similar interest in collaborating on a project. She's just a project partner. Nothing else. I am not jealous.

"You're feisty and aggressive on bed?"

Clarke seemed taken aback when she opened the door of the bar at exactly 8pm.

"Lexa," Clarke blinks rapidly. Aha! A well tell sign that her eyes starts to act up. She better see that optometrist. "What are you doing here? Is everything okay?"

"Are you?" I tried again.

"What? What are you talking about?" She appeared to be confused which is understandable. She doesn't know the background details of my conversation with her colleague and Raven.

"Your colleague said you're-..."

"Oh!... OH! Nylah! God...," She was shaking her head. I don't know if it's a good sign or not. "She still kept spreading it. Gosh that bitch..."

"Clarke?"

"What? OH! Right... Um," Clarke laughs a little, "I guess so. I kind of got drunk one night and wakes up with Nylah naked beside me."

"You had coitus with your colleague," I said.

"I guess so?" Clarke was giving me a confused look and then laughs. "It doesn't mean anything, Lexa. You don't have to get jealous."

"I am not jealous."

"Of course you're not," Clarke smiles and sighs, "Is that why you're here? To ask me if Nylah and I hooked up?"

"I have some information about the project." I said, deciding to ignore that sly look from Clarke's.

"Well it better be quick. My boss's in here. I have to open the bar."

"It can't be quick, there's quite a lot of detail."

"I'm sorry, Lexa, but I really can't do it right now. I'll get into trouble. I really need this job."

"What time do you finish?"

"3am."

I couldn't believe it! What kind of job was Clarke working for? What kind of customers that comes in in the middle of the week and comes home at 3 am in the morning and goes to work few hours later! No wonder, the work quality is depreciating and then people would complain about lack of work done. They're not seeing the health hazard and work load inefficiencies. I took a huge breath and a huge decision.

"I'll see you after work."

I rode home, went to bed and set my alarm to 2.30am. I have to cancel my morning run the next morning and meditation to catch up an appropriate amount of sleep.

At exactly 3am, I've arrived at bar. The door was closed and there was sign that says 'CLOSED'. I knocked and then Clarke came to the door.

"I'm hungry," She said, without filling up any starter conversation techniques. She must be retaliating for all the times that I bombarded her with information without background details. "Come in. I'm almost done."

Apparently, the bar closes at 2.30am but Clarke still have to clean up.

"You want beer?" Clarke asked.

Beer?! 3am in the morning? Preposterous!

"Yes, please."

I sat at the bar, watching her clean up. The question that I had asked to Clarke earlier that day kept insisting inside my head.

"Are you and Nylah together?" I asked.

Clarke stopped her mopping and looked at me, "You came all the way here at 3am in the morning just to ask me that?"

"No, the question is unrelated to the main purpose of my visit."

"Please to hear that, it's 3am in the morning and I'm with a strange woman asking me about my past relationship."

"I'm not strange."

"Weird."

"Past relationship?"

Clarke sighed, put the mop against the bar and sat down in front of me. "Nylah and I had a one time thing. We didn't dated. We didn't have any romantic attachment. Sure, we flirted and had one night of fun but that's it, Lexa. Nothing else. Okay?"

"Okay," I said, seeing that uncanny smile again. "Why are you smiling that way?"

Clarke laughs, "because you're a strange woman, Lexa. That's why."

She opened two beers and handed me the other bottle. I pulled out my folder and extracted the party photo.

"Is this the party where my mother got pregnant?" Clarke asked. "Fuck. Where did this come from? Where did you get this, Lexa?"

I elaborated about my research and showed her my spreadsheet.

"All names are listed. 60 males in total. 15 are obviously non-caucasians as determined by visual assessment and supported by names, three already eliminated.

"You have  _got_ to be kidding me. We're not testing.... 45 of them."

"42," I said and I told her about the reunion.

"Minor problem," Clarke said, "we're not invited."

"Correct," I said. "The problem is minor and already solved. There will be alcohol."

"So?"

I indicated at bar and the collection of bottles behind the bar. "You're expertise will be needed."

"You're freaking kidding me."

"Can you secure an employment for the event?"

"Wait. Wait. Hang on. Hang on. This is getting a _little_ crazy. You think we could just turn up for this party and starts swabbing people's glasses?"

"Not we. Only you. I don't have the alcohol expertise. But, otherwise, correct."

"Nope. Ain't gonna happen," Clarke said with her hands up.

"I thought you wanted to know who's your father."

"By doing this? Are you crazy?"

"This is the only way we have right now to find out who's your biological father, Clarke. Don't you wanna find out who he is?"

"I told you," she said. "Not as much."

////

Three days later, Clarke appeared at my apartment. It was 9.14pm, and I was cleaning my bathroom, as the Grounder lady was called in sick. I buzzed her upstairs. I was wearing my sports bra and running shorts. I was coming from the gym and decided to hit the cleaning process as a part of my exercise regime.

"Wow." She stared at me for a few moments. "This is what martial arts and meditation does, is it?" She appeared to be referring to my pectoral muscles.

"Clarke." Clarke didn't replied but her eyes were on me. "Clarke?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I help you?"

"Oh! Oh yeah!" Then suddenly she jumped up and down like a child. "We got the gig! I know a friend who happens to know the event manager of the reunion and she said she got us hooked up."

"I thought you didn't want to do this."

"Changed my mind. Nyla-....Here! Memorize this!" She then handed me over an old stained manual.

I knew she was about to say Nylah's name but it caught my attention why she stopped when she's about to. "Why did you stopped saying her name?"

"Hmm?" Clarke looks at me confusedly, "Who?"

"Nylah. You were about to say her name but then you didn't."

Clarke shrugs, "I don't know. Does it matter?"

"Was she the one who got us the gig?" I asked, feeling my hands suddenly trembling a little.

"Yes."

"Okay," I looked at the manual she gave me but the words can't seem to enter my head. I don't understand why.

"It just slipped, okay?" Clarke said.

"What?" I said.

Clarke rolled her eyes and sighs, "Nylah's name. You don't have to be jealous, Lexa. She's just a friend."

"I am not jealous, Clarke."

"Are you sure? Cause you were gripping the book too hard and you're trembling."

I stared at her a good moment.

"Okay. Okay. You're not jealous. I was just saying," She shrugs. "Nylah's just a good friend. It was all in the past now. So we move on."

I looked at her for a moment more and looks down at the manual. The words finally made sense. _The Idiot Bartender's Guidebook_ _to Making and Serving Drinks._ It suddenly occurred to me the role that I have to play.

"I'm going to be serving drinks?" I asked.

"Yes you are!"

"But Clarke-..."

"Sorry! Got to go! Gotta get to work! I'm late!" Clarke turns around, pecks me on the cheek and left.

The blonde woman doesn't have a sense for personal space. Neither was aware of the physical touch permit. I touched my right cheeks and felt it hot. Why is it hot? Am I burning up again? Dr. Lorelei told me that I was doing fine. My stability is excellent and no illness or whatsoever. I need a better doctor.

////

I memorized the first few recipes before finishing the bathroom. As I was about to prepare to sleep, after skipping meditation to follow up more reading on the manual, it occurred to me that things  _were_ getting crazy. It was not the first time that my life had been in a chaotic mess and I've already formulated an action when such distress occurred in my life. I called Octavia.

She have her off the next day. Perfect! I outlined the situation, omitting the Father Project component, I did not mentioned about the surreptitious collection of DNA in which Octavia most likely to consider unethical. Instead I suggested that Clarke and I likes the same flowers.

"Flowers huh. Have you talked to Raven about her?" asked Octavia.

I told her that Raven introduced Clarke as a candidate for the Wife Project, and that she would only encourage me to have sex with her. I further explained that Clarke is an unsuitable partner with a thought that I'm only interested in her on that basis. Perhaps she thought that our common interest was an excuse for pursuing her. I had made a social error in asking her about her relationship and how 'feisty and aggressive' she was on bed - it would only reinforce that impression.

Yet Clarke had not mentioned about the Wife Project. We were so sidetracked by the Dress Code Disaster that the unplanned events that follows after further distracted us. But I saw the the possibility of hurting Clarke by saying that she got eliminated from the consideration for the Wife Project after the first date.

"So that's what you're worried about?" Octavia said, "Hurting her feelings?"

"Correct."

"That great! That's really great, Lexa!"

"Incorrect. It's a major problem."

"I mean that you're concerned about her feelings. And you're enjoying time together?"

"Exceedingly," I said, realizing it for the first time.

"And is she enjoying herself too?"

"Presumably. But she applied for the Wife Project."

"Don't worry about it, Lexa," said Octavia. "She sounds pretty resilient. Just have some fun and don't think about the project for awhile."

I don't know how will I think anything else when Clarke bombarded my head and of course, the project. She's the opposite spectrum and somehow I was enjoying her company immensely.

////

A strange thing happened the next day. For the first time ever, Raven made an appointment to meet with me in his office. I always have been the one organizing a meeting with him. This must be an update to the Wife Project, there had been a really long gap already.

Raven's office is bigger than mine. Obviously, being the head of the engineering department she will be given a bigger space than what she really needed. And being Raven she loves to brag about it. Thankfully, she did not mentioned it when I entered her office. The cute Monty Green came and fetched us coffee when my eyes landed on the world map that was on the wall behind Raven's desk.

"It's getting populated," I said.

Raven looked behind her and grins proudly, "Work hard. Play hard."

"How's Octavia taking it?"

She rolled her eyes and sighs, "as usual. Anyway! We're here to talk about you. So... You've been talking to Octavia."

This is one of the negative part of talking to two best friends. They don't hide anything from each other. Uncanny enough, Raven seemed to hide from Octavia the amount of people she had been sleeping with.

"I gathered that you've been seeing Clarke. As what the expert predicted," Raven said pointing at herself.

"Yes," I said, "but not for the Wife Project."

Raven is my best friend but I feel uncomfortable about sharing information about the Father Project. Amazingly enough, she did not pursue it, maybe because she thought I am interested in Clarke in a sexual way.

"What do you know about our Princess Clarke Griffin?" Raven asked.

"Princess?" I asked. I remembered what Aden called her before. Clarke had not yet explained that.

"Long story," Raven waved her hand. "So?"

"Not much," I said truthfully. "We haven't talked about her personally. Mostly we discussed about external issues."

"Oh pish-posh!" She said," you know what she does, where she spends her time."

"She's a barmaid. "

"Okay," Said Raven, "That's all you know?"

"And she doesn't like her father."

Raven laughed for no obvious reason. "I don't think he's a good candidate for the best father award either." She sighed and scratched her head, "Look, Lexa the list of guys that Clarke likes is not a long one."

"She's gay."

"Obviously," she said. "Look the way she dresses. The way she represents herself. She's strong and will-powered. Clearly, you've seen that."

Raven might have been pointing about the way Clarke dresses. I sees it every time we see each other. She's never been the type of girl who dresses in a very feminine dress code. However, that day on the Dress Code Disaster she was extremely attractive.

Perhaps she didn't want to send any wrong signals as if she's trying to attract mates in which Raven encountered her, presumably a bar or restaurant. Much of women's clothing were designed to enhance and attract a potential mate. If Clarke is not attracting a mate then it only made sense for her to dress up otherwise.

There were so many questions that I wanted to ask about Clarke to Raven. But it will only appear as me being interested in Clarke which Raven would definitely misinterpret. But there was one critical question.

"Why was she prepared to participate in the Wife Project?"

Raven pursed her lips and hesitated for while. "Who knows?" She shrugs, "I don't think she's a lost cause, but don't expect too much. She's got a lot of issues. Just enjoy your time with her. Don't forget the rest of your life."

Raven's advise was extremely accurate with Octavia's. Sometimes I thought they can read each other's mind. Incredibly, Raven was being perceptive. I can't believe it. Did she know how much time I was spending with the cocktail book?

////

I am Alexandria Woods and I am an alcoholic. I formed this words inside my head but I did not say them out loud not that I am drunk (which I was) but because if I did then it would be true. Then I have no choice but to follow the rational protocol which was stop drinking permanently.

My intoxication was a result of the Father Project - specifically the need to gain competence as a drinks waiter. I had purchased the necessary ingredients and equipments as recommended by the  _The Idiot Bartender's Guidebook_ in order to master the technique of cocktail making. It was surprisingly complex, and naturally I am not a dextrous person. In fact, with the exception of traditional sword fighting, which I have not practiced since I was a child, martial arts and meditation, I am clumsy and incompetent at most forms of sport. The expertise with martial arts and meditation is the result of years and years of practice.

For days, I practiced first was the accuracy and then the speed. At 12.14am before the reunion day, I was exhausted, and took interest in testing out the already made cocktails. I made the classics; Martini, Mojito, Margarita, Mai Tai and Cosmopolitan - which based from the book were the most popular. They were all excellent, and tasted even more better than the ones I've purchased before. Unfortunately, I had put too much cranberry juice on the Cosmopolitan, and I made another batch so as to perfect the cocktail.

Research consistently shows that the risks to health outweigh the benefits of drinking alcohol. My argument being is that the benefits to my  _mental_ health justify the risks. Alcohol had helped me calm down and lifted my mood, a very pleasant combination. And most importantly, it reduces discomfort in social interactions.

Specifically, I gave myself a routine of 3 days abstinence per week. However, the Father Project had broke this routine so many times. When all I did was to continuously reminding Clarke to take heed my advise in taking care of her health, here I am, completely drunk and utterly hyper. Oh the irony.

The Mass DNA Collection techniques were proceeding successfully and I was making tons of progress, as I was working half way through the cocktail taste tests. Contrary to popular belief, Alcohol does not kills your brain cells.

As I prepared for bed, I felt a strong desire to call Clarke to report to her the progress. Logically it was not necessary, and it is a waste of effort to report that a project is proceeding as planned. Rationality prevailed!

"Lexa?"

"Clarke!" I said.

"Lexa? Are you okay? It's the middle of the night? Why are you still awake?" Clarke asked.

Clarke suddenly sounded funny on the phone. I giggled.

"You sounded funny."

"Lexa, are you drunk?"

"NO! The project is going  _very_ well. Highly satisfactory! I'm reporting to you," I hiccuped.

"Okay, okay. Hold on. Where are you?" Clarke asked.

"On my bed."

"Thank, God..." Clarke grumbled.

"Clarke?" I said.

"Lexa?"

"You're really pretty," I giggled.

"Um thank you? You're very pretty too?" She laughed on the phone. "Go to bed, Lexa. You're drunk. I'll see you tomorrow. Don't be late!"

"AYE AYE SKY PRINCESS!"

/////

Clarke and I met for coffee 37 minutes before the reunion starts. If this were a national exam I would have gotten the top notch, it wasn't that hard. Clarke was already wearing the server uniform and handed me my uniform. 

"I picked it up early and washed it. I don't want anymore karate exhibition."

She must have meant the Dress Code Disaster, even though the martial art I had employed was Aikido.

I had prepared the DNA collection equipments: zip-lock bags, tissues, and pre-printed adhesive labels with the names from the graduation photo.

"Your job is very simple. Take orders, bring it to the bar and they will make the drinks for you. Deliver it. Voila! You're done! BUT! The most important job of all, make sure you clear all their glasses and plates. Easy enough? Great! Let's go! Chop! Chop!" The manager said as he walks away into the back kitchen.

"I memorized all the ingredients and accuracy. I've spent days making it perfect and now it goes to waste." I said to Clarke.

"I know I know," she said, patting my back.

I hate people touching me. I'm starting to feel warm all over again. I really need a new doctor.

Another problem rises, no name tags! How was I know which is who. Curse complacency of not memorizing the name to the face!

"Say to them, 'Hi, I'm Lexa and I'll be looking after you this evening, Doctor...'" Clarke demonstrated how to give the impression that the sentence was incomplete, that the attendees have to fill it up by their names. Amazing, it turned out to work 77.4% of the time. I realized I needed to do this with the women as well, to avoid complications.

The evening wore on and more complication rose.

"I can't keep track of all the names," Clarke said, frantically, as we passed each other with drink trays in our hands. It was getting busy and she's becoming a little emotional. I sometimes forget that many people doesn't know the basic technique of remembering data.

"There will be an opportunity when they sit down, " I said. "There's no need to be concerned about."

I surveyed the ballroom and there were 10 round tables with 10 seats per table. I counted 87 attendees and majority of them were males, comprising of 53. This is good. It's almost the complete number of subjects for the Father project. However, this does not defeat the fact that some of them brought their plus ones. Oh the disaster.

I approached table 3 and I've already obtained 7 names. 3 more to go.

I started with the lady in pink cardigan, who's name I already knew.

"Good evening again Dr. Margareth. What can I get you to drink?"

She looks at me strangely and I thought I just made a social error. I always thought that her name is associated to some historical names raging from Maria and so forth. But she did not corrected me.

"Just red wine please. Thank you."

"I would recommend Margarita. World's most popular cocktail." 

"You do cocktails?" 

"Correct." 

"In that case," She said. "I'll have Mojito." 

"Excellent choice," I said. Easy. 

I turned to the unidentified man beside her and utilised Clarke's extraction method. "Hi! I'm Lexa and I'll be looking after you this evening, Doctor..." 

"You said cocktails ain't that right?" the man said. 

"Affirmative." 

"Excellent. I'll have a martini, please!" He said. 

One of the man across the table laughed, "Martini, Joe? Are you kidding me, man?" 

"Oh pipe with it, Mike! Marge is already beating my ass for drinking too much." Excellent! Two man identified - Dr. Joe Borough and Dr. Mike Stefan. "Lexa, Martini please." He winked. 

The man next to Joe soon ordered his cocktail. "Whiskey sour? Know how to do it?" 

"Certainly," I said. 

"And add a little more, you know..." He laughed. 

I do understand what he meant but I do not understand why can't he simply say it.

"I understand. I have a secret recipe." I said, remembering the article of cocktail making tips and tricks I found online. Definitely came in handy. I was processing the steps when it occured to me he didn't mentioned his name. "I require your name. To avoid error." 

There was silence and staring. Dr. Jason Ethan who was sitting beside him said, "His name is Charles." 

"Dr. Charles Hugh, is that correct?" I asked to have a better confirmation and he nodded. He seemed a little annoyed.  

I returned to the bar with the orders and I noticed Clarke was also taking orders. We had not yet progressed to the stage of collecting glasses, and some people seemed to be drinking slowly. I hope we can speed up the process by consuming fast but I'll be violating my duty as a holder of Polis' Ambassador for Alcohol Consumption responsibilities. I decided to remind them of the delicious selections of cocktails we have instead. 

As I took the orders and serve them, I noticed a huge environment change that inevitably, caused Clarke to feel very annoyed. 

"Table 11 won't let me take their order! They're waiting for you!" She said as we walked past each other. It seems like everyone wanted to have cocktails instead of wine. No doubt the owner will be pleased with gaining profit tonight. Pretty soon everyone was toasting and cheering. Orders and more orders were taken in and the bar man were having a hard time to keep up that I have to stand in to make ends meet while Clarke takes the orders. The night was growing even more busier and the owner's smile is getting more wider. I can sense that he'll scratching his palm any time soon. 

People were finishing their drinks and I realised that I can swab 4 glasses before reaching the bar. While the rest of the glasses I had advised Clarke to categorised them with indication of the glass owner's name. Whereas, I helped in making the drinks and taking in more orders. 

Clarke seemed very stressed out. And I was enjoying myself immensely. 

"7 Martini! 9 Margarita Frozen! Whiskey sour 3!" I said to the bar men. 

"Woah! Slow down! Slow down!" One of the bar man said. 

I can't slowly down. I was, as they say, on a roll!

////

I did not leave the event hall until very late. The last guest departed at 2:46am, 2 hours and 46 minutes after the scheduled completion time. Clarke, the boss - which apparently, a woman and I had made 156 cocktails. Clarke and the boss sold wine and beer which I did not kept track. 

"You guys can go ahead," She said. "We'll clean up tomorrow morning." 

She then extended her hand and I shook it according to custom, although it seems very late for introduction. "Gina. Gina Martin," she said. "Great work, guys!" 

She didn't shake Clarke's hand but pulled her into a tight hug. I noticed that Clarke was looking a little tired. I was still full of energy. 

"Got time for a drink?" Gina asked. 

"Excellent idea!" I said. 

"You've got to be kidding me!" Said Clarke. "I'm outta here! All the stuff's in your bag. You don't want a lift, Lexa?" 

I did not bring my bicycle and I only had a bottle of beer. I estimated if I drink at least 2 bottles of beer I should be good for the week and I'm still sober enough - with the basis on my alcohol tolerance - to hail a cab. Clarke left with her beaten beetle. 

"What's your poison?" Gina asked. 

"Poison?" I asked. 

"What do you want to drink, Lexa?" Gina laughed. 

Of course! A drink! Why can't people just say straight to the point what they want to say? 

"Beer, please." 

Gina opened 2 bottles of beer and smiled at me. 

"So tell me, Lexa. How long have you been doing this?" 

"You meant serving alcoholic drinks? This is my first time on the field." I informed her. 

Gina laughed, slapping on my thigh. "Funny! That's hilarious, Lexa! I like you. I  _really_ do!" 

I don't understand what's funny. Am I missing a point? 

"Listen, I need you. I need a person like you, Lexa. I'm opening a new bar downtown and I need someone like you," Gina said. I felt her hand squeezing my right thigh. I'm starting to feel more relaxed. The alcohol its doing its thing. "I mean if you're interested-..." 

She's offering me a job! This was very flattering, considering my limited experience and my irrational thought that Clarke could be present to witness this. Uncanny enough as well, to help me get Gina's hand away from squeezing my thigh. 

"I already have a job. Thank you." 

"I'm not talking about a job. I'm talking about partnership. Working as a big boss, side by side." 

"No, thank you," I said as I stood up. "I'm sorry, Gina. But I think you would find me unsatisfactory." 

Finally, she lifted off her hand. "Maybe," Gina shrugs. "But I'm a pretty good judge. Give me a call if you change your mind about the partnership" She handed me her business card. "Or if you wanna get down and dirty. I'm down with that too." Gina winked before leaving the function hall. And I was left alone feeling more confused than ever. Was she trying to flirt with me? 

////

"Gina flirted with me last night." I finally made into a conclusion that she did. 

"Woah!" Clarke jumped as I opened my door for her. She must have not expected me to speak which was uncanny when answering the door. It's customary to greet visitors. "Okaaayy... Why made you say that?" 

"She gave me her name card," I showed her the card. "And said if I wanna get down and dirty. She's down with that too." 

I'm still trying to analyse what had happened the night before. Especially, my encounter with Gina that I wasn't able to decipher Clarke's reaction. 

"Clarke?" I called after her as she walks away down the hall. I quickly locked my door and briskly walked out of the building. 

"Get in the car." Clarke said. 

Her tone and mannerism made a massive swift. I was told that when such things occurs something drastic happened in between but I was trying to figure out what it was. 

"Are you feeling okay, Clarke?" I asked. 

I noticed her eye brows were furrowed, as if she was annoyed over something. 

"Yes. I'm fine, Lexa. Let's just get the testings done. So we can go home." 

Clarke gave a sudden smile at me before directing to the road. 

I never felt even more confused.

////

Clarke's cold demeanour never seemed to change. She was quiet as we approached the lab. Lincoln was not around but left a note saying that he'll be out for the day and he'll check on us later in the evening. I am not sure if we're gonna last that long. I have a very strong gut feeling that something bad is about to happen. Gut feelings are the worst.

"No beer until all samples are tested," I said.

"Wohoo! _Fun,_ " Clarke mumbled more so to herself as if the lab wasn't empty enough for me to hear her whisper. 

The work took some time. Longer than I had expected, I guess we will be seeing Lincoln tonight.

At around 7:47pm, Clarke went out to grab a pizza. The unhealthier choice but my body hadn't had proper meal since last night and with a mildly hangover this morning, I can't consume anything. I had no choice but to eat what she bought. I have to double my timing in the gym.

When she returned, I was testing the third-to the last candidate. As we were opening the pizza, Clarke was still quiet and distant.

"Something's bothering you," I said.

Clarke opened her mouth to say something when my phone came ringing. I realised immediately who it was.

"You didn't answer at home," said my mother. " I was worried sake for you Alexandria!" This was a reasonable reaction on her part, as her weekend phone call is part of my weekly schedule. "Where are you?" 

"At work."

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." 

I noticed Clarke seemed to be pursing her lips. Clarke's snickering. I turned away. It was embarrassing to have Clarke listen to a private conversation and I did everything I could to terminate it quickly, keeping my response short and close ended. Clarke started laughing - fortunately, not loud enough for my mother to hear - and started making funny faces. 

"Your mother?" She asked, when I finally hang up. 

"Correct. How did you know?" 

"You sounded like a 16 years old boy talking to her mom infront of his cru-..." She stopped. My annoyance must have been obvious. "Or me talking to Kane." 

It was interesting that Clarke finds talking to parents to be difficult. My mother is a good person but the hard part was her inspecting every single activities going on in my life. It's good to know too that Clarke boisterous self is back. Clarke sighed as she picks up a slice of Pizza. 

She opened her mouth but then stopped, looked at me and sigh. "I'm sorry, Lexa. You don't deserve the cold treatment." She then took a bite of the pizza and chew aggressively. 

"Cold treatment?" 

Clarke sighs some more. "How's Gina last night?" 

"She was fine. Good company. She offered me a job." 

"She offered you a job?! What is it?" Clarke sounds surprised. 

"Business partnership over a bar in downtown." 

"Are you accepting it?" 

"No. I already have a job. I don't see a reason why I should." I said. 

Clarke flashed a grin and nodded. She seems suddenly uplifted. She looks at the computer screen. 

"I'm guessing no news." 

"Plenty of news. We're down with one and left with 3 more to test." 

Clarke was then silent and seemed to be looking at the fridge. It occurs to me that maybe she needs the alcohol's magic to say what's on her mind. So I pressed the computer to start analysing the remaining DNA sample, walked over to the fridge and opened two bottles of beer. 

"I thought no beer before the DNA testing's over," Clarke said, accepting the bottle. 

I took a swig and shrugs, focusing again on the computer screen. 

My hypothesis was right. 

"Amazing. You. You're the most amazing person I've ever met. I don't know why you're doing this, but thanks, Lexa." Clarke said with that smile again. She tapped her bottle against mine and drank. 

It was enjoyable to be appreciated, but my fear has come. It finally arrived. This was what exactly what I had been worried about when I spoke to Octavia. Now Clarke was asking about my motives. She had applied for the Wife Project and presumably had expectations on that basis. It was time to be honest and go straight to the point. 

I took another swig. "Presumably you think it's in order to initiate a romantic relationship." 

"The thought had crossed my mind," said Clarke. 

Assumption confirmed. 

"I deeply apologise if I've created an incorrect impression." 

"What do you mean?" Asked Clarke. 

"I'm not interested in you as a partner. I should have told you sooner but you're totally unsuitable." 

I was trying to analyse Clarke's reaction but facial impressions are still my weak points. 

"Well, I think you'll be pleased to know that I can cope. I can be water that takes shape with it's environment. And I think you're pretty unsuitable too," she said. 

This was a huge relief. I hadn't hurt her feelings. But it did left out an unanswered question. 

"Why did you applied for the Wife Project?" I used the word 'apply' loosely because Raven didn't required for Clarke to do the questionnaire. But her reaction seems to produce a different outcome of miscommunication. 

" _Wife project?"_ Clarke asked, as if she had never heard of it. 

"Affirmative. Raven sent you as candidate for the Wife Project. A wild card."

"She did what??" 

"You've never heard of the Wife Project?" I asked, trying to establish a thorough investigation of Clarke's uncertainty. 

"No," She said in a tone that was mostly used when speaking to a child. "I have  _never_ heard of the Wife project. But hell, I'm about to!  _In great detail."_

"Of course," I said. I noticed how intimidating it is to look at Clarke's blue eyes when she seems to be confused or upset. "But we should time-share with Pizza-consumption and beer-consumption." 

"Oh hell yeah, definitely." She said. 

I explained in detail about the Wife Project and it's progression including Raven's review and field visits to dating establishments. I finished as we consumed the final slices of pizza. Clarke hadn't really asked any questions except for 'Oh God', 'Fuck' and 'Oh Lord.'

"So" Clarke said. "Are you still doing it? The Wife Project?" 

I told her that the project is technically still active and on-going but the absence of any qualified candidates there had been no progess. 

"What a shame," said Clarke. "The perfect woman hadn't checked in yet." 

"I would assume that there is more than one candidate who meets the criteria," I said. "But it's like finding a bone-marrow donor. Not enough registrations." 

"Or you could held them captured, torture them and held tightly on the operation table and extract out their bone marrow," Clarke suggested. I stared at her. "I'm just kidding!... I can only hope that enough woman realise their civic duty and take the test." 

It was an interesting comment. I didn't really feel it was a duty. In the last few weeks, reflecting on the Wife Project and its lack of success, I had felt saddened that there were so many women who were looking for partners and desperate enough to register, even though the probability of meeting the criteria is incredibly low. 

"It's entirely optional," I said. 

"How nice of them. Here's a thought for you, Lexa. Any woman who takes the test is happy enough to be treated as an object. You can say that's their choice. But, if you spent a minutes looking at how much society forces woman to think of themselves as an object, you might not think so. What I want to know is, why are you acting as if you're one of the guys and treat woman like this? Aren't you a woman too? Yes, you like women but you can't be an arsehole and stuck up like that! Do you want a woman who thinks like that? Like she's some kind of an object and being pushed around? Is that the sort of wife you want?" Clarke was sounding very angry. "You know why I acted the way I do? You know why I dress they way I do? Why the red hair? Why the strong personality? Fuck, because I  _don't_ want to be treated as an object. If you knew how insulted I am that you think I was an applicant to your stupid Wife Project, a  _candidate-..."_

"Then why did you come to see me that day? I suddenly asked. "The day of the No Dress Code Incident?" 

She shook her head. "Remember in your balcony when I asked you about the sexual drive between Grounders and Sky People?"

I nodded. 

"Didn't it strike you odd that there I was on my first date and I'm asking about sexual drives." 

"Not really. On a date I'm too focused on not saying odd things myself." 

"Okay, screw that," Clarke seems a little more calmer. "The reason why I asked the question was because I had a bet with Raven. Raven, who's a bitch, bet me that Grounders have more sexual drive than Sky people. She sent me to a historian expert to settle the bet." 

It took me a few moments to process the implications of what Clarke was saying. Raven had not prepared her for the dinner invitation. A woman - Clarke - had accepted the offer of a date with me without being pre-warned, set up. I was saturated with an irrational disproportioned sense of satisfaction. But Raven bombed me. And it seemed that she had taken Clarke into her advantage for her money. 

"Did you lose much money?" I asked. "It seems exploitative for a professor to make a bet with a barmaid." 

"I'm  _not_ a fucking barmaid!" 

I could tell by the numerous usage of obscenity that Clarke was getting angry again. I realised my error - one that would have caused trouble if I had made it in front of a class and straight away into the Dean's office. 

"Bar- _person."_

" _Bartender_ is the established non-discriminating term," she said. "That's not the point. It's my part-time job. I'm a medical student, okay? Raven is my childhood arch nemesis who makes my life a living hell! Does that make sense now?" 

Of course! I suddenly remembered where I had seen her before - arguing with Raven after her public lecture. Clarke is the red haired girl that Raven had asked to continue at her house - which I bet she did to most of her targets. No wonder Octavia is always unpleased - but she had refused. For some reason I felt pleased about this. But if I had recognised her the very first time she went to my office, I could have avoided this misunderstandings. Everything now made sense, including the excellent performance she had given in her medical-school enquiry. Except for two things. 

"Why didn't you tell me, Clarke?" I asked. 

"Because I  _am_ a barmaid, and I'm not ashamed of it. You can take me or leave me as a barmaid." I assumed she talking metaphorically. 

"Wonderful," I said. "This explains almost everything." 

"Oh really? Why the 'almost'? Don't feel you have to leave everything hanging." 

"Why Raven didn't tell me." 

"Because she's a bitch." 

"Raven's my best friend." 

"Go float yourself," Clarke said. 

////  
  


With matters clarified, we have to continue with the project which was held pause during the debacle of misunderstandings. I can see that our chances tonight in finding Clarke's biological father is very poor. We have 2 more DNA to test and the rest were left negative output. I got up and walked to the machine. 

"Listen," Clarke said. "I'm gonna ask you again. Why are you doing this, Lexa?" 

I remembered my reflection on this question, and the answer I had reached was involving scientific challenge and understanding human behaviour. But as I began my explanation I realised that this was not true. After todays clarifications of misunderstandings and miscommunications. I should not create a new one. 

"I don't know," I said. 

I turned back to the machine and began loading the sample. My work was interrupted by a sudden smashing of glass. Clarke had thrown a beaker, fortunately not one containing untested sample, against the wall. 

"I am  _so_ over this." 

"Clarke..." 

She walked out. 

////

The next morning there was a knock on my office door. It was Clarke. 

"Enter," I said. "I assume you wanted to know the final results." 

Clarke walked unnaturally slow towards my desk where I was reviewing some potentially life-changing data. "No," she said. "I figured all of them were negative. You would have phoned me if something came up." 

"Correct." 

She stood and looked at me without saying anything. I am aware that such silence was meant for me to say something but I couldn't think of anything useful to say. Finally, she filled the gap. 

"Lexa-... I'm really sorry I blew up last night." 

"Completely understandable," I said. "It's incredibly frustrating to work so hard for something that gained no result. But very common in science." I remembered that she was a science graduate, as well as a barmaid. "As you know." 

"I meant your Wife Project. I think it's wrong, but you-... You're a woman and I can't believe that you're doing this to other women. Then I realised that you're no different from every other man out there, except that you're just more honest about it. Anyway, you've done so much for me-...

"A miscommunication error. Fortunately now rectified. We can proceed with the father Project without personal obstruction." 

"Not till I understand why you're doing it, Lexa." 

That difficult question again. But she had been happy to proceed when she thought that my motivation was romantic interest even though she did not reciprocate that interest.

"There has been no change in my motivation, Clarke" I said truthfully. "It was your motivation that was a concern. I thought you were interested in me as a partner. Fortunately, that assumption was based on false information. As you've said, I was unsuitable to be your life partner too." 

"Then shouldn't you be spending your time on your objectifying project?" 

The question was very timely. The data I was looking at on my screen indicated a major breakthrough!

"Good news! I have an applicant who satisfies all requirements." 

"Oh...," said Clarke, "Well, I guess you won't be needing me then." 

This was truly strange response. I hadn't needed Clarke for anything other than her own project. 


	7. The Dancing Skeleton Conspiracy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The part where Lexa finally found her perfect candidate and invited her to their very first date at the Polis Ball. Clarke got herself a date for the ball. And let's just see what will happen between this two lovebirds. 
> 
> Enjoy! ;D

The candidates name was Luna and she met all the criteria. Uncanny enough that she doesn't have a last name but Raven insisted that it wasn't needed.

"She hits all the requirements, Lexa! This could be it! She could be the one."

 _The one_. I have never thought of  _the one_ due to the unforeseen circumstances which is Clarke Griffin. This is could finally be the end of my search and Raven had succeeded in finding me the suitable companion.

There was one obstacle, to which I need to devote my time. She noted that she had 4 times won the state ballroom dancing competition. Very knowledgeable with Lindy Hop, a swing genre dance popular in the 1930s. It seems like its a perfectly reasonable for her to have some criteria of her own, and this one was easy to satisfy. And I had the perfect place for her.

I called Alie, the Dean's assistant, and confirmed that she was still selling Polis Ball tickets. Then I emailed Luna and invited her to be my partner for the Ball - she accepted! I had a date - the  _perfect_ date. Now I had 7 days to learn to dance.

Raven entered my office - as which she claims to be a matchbox tiny office - and saw me practicing my dance steps. I had chosen to focus my time and concentration on ballroom dancing as this is more appropriate for the ball. Perhaps when we meet she can teach me how to dance Lindy Hop - not that I  have not been reading about it. But I think it's a good way to be intimate with your future wife.

"Wow. She haven't met you and she's already skinned to bone. Try not to kill her, Lexa."

She was referring to the skeleton I was using for practice. I had obtained it on loan from the Anatomy Department, and no one had asked what I required it for. It's a good thing. Judging on the pelvis size, I concluded that this is a male, but this is irrelevant for dancing practice.

I explained it's purpose to Raven, pointing out the scene from the film _Dirty Dancing_ that was showing on my computer monitor by my desk.

Raven laughed.

"So," Raven said, "Ms Right - sorry, mind my words. Dr. Right, PhD, just popped into your inbox."

"Correction. Her name is not Wright," I said. "It's Luna."

"Photo? 5 upon 10? 9.9?"

I shook my head. "Not necessary. The meeting arrangement is very precise. She will be my partner for the Polis Ball."

"No shit," Raven went dead silent for a moment and continued my practice. "Lexa the ball is in less than a week."

"Correct."

"You can't learn how to dance in 6 days."

"Yes I can," I looked at her. "7 days to be exact. I started yesterday. The theory are easy. I simply need to practice the mechanics. They're less demanding then martial arts."

I demonstrated the steps with my patient skeleton partner.

Raven was deeply impressed. "Take a seat, Lexa."

Raven took my seat from behind the desk and gestured at the chair in front of her. And I sat.

"I hope you're not too pissed with me about Clarke."

I had almost forgotten. "Why didn't you tell me that she's a medical student? And about the bet?"

"Octavia had been going on about you two having so much fun together. I thought if she didn't tell you what she really was there must be a good reason behind it. Clarke may be a little  _difficult_ but she's not dumb, Lexa."

"Perfectly reasonable," I said. On the moment of human interaction, why argue with someone who had known Clarke for a very long time?

"I'm glad that we have a mutual understanding on  that part," She said. "But I have to tell you, Lexa. Clarke was a little unhappy with me. With life. With  _anyone,_ really. So Listen, Lexa, I persuaded Clarke to go to the ball... _Alone._ If you knew how Clarke takes my every advise, you'd realized how big of a deal that was. And I'm going to suggest that you do the same."

"Take your advise?"

No, go to the ball  _alone._ Or invite Clarke as your partner."

I now see what Raven was trying to do. She was so focused on attraction and sex that she sees it everywhere. This time she was really wrong.

"Clarke and I had already discussed that topic explicitly. We had agreed mutually. None of us are interested."

"Since when does Clarke-... You know what, never mind."

////

I visited Octavia for some advice for my date with Luna. Apparently, she wasn't aware of the Polis Ball, hence, I filled her with the details and my predicaments. Which was my usual 'nerve-wrecking' status - as to what Octavia puts it.

"Just be yourself, Lexa. If she doesn't like you for who you are, then she's not  _the one._ "

There's those words again.

"If I behave as myself it is unlikely that women would accept me for myself."

"Well what about Costia?" Asked Octavia. "You had a great time with her right?"

It was true - Costia was unlike the women I had dated. This was an excellent therapy; giving appropriate examples - unlike Raven.

Perhaps Luna would be the younger, dancing version of Costia. That would be a pleasant surprise.

"And what about Clarke?" she asked.

"Clarke is completely unsuitable."

"I wasn't talking about that, Lexa," Octavia said. "Just whether she accepts you for who you really are."

"I think so... Because she isn't evaluating me as a partner. It's a very reasonable logic."

"It's probably good that you feel like that," said Octavia.

////

Feel! Feelings. Feelings! Feelings were disrupting my sense of well-being. In addition to a nagging desire to work on the Father Project rather than the Wife Project, I now have a high level of anxiety related to Luna.

Throughout my life I had been criticized for being 'emotionally detached robot' - according Raven and Octavia - as if this were some absolute fault. Throughout my interactions with psychiatrists and psychologist - even including Octavia and Raven - start from the premise that I should be more 'in touch' with my inner emotions. What they really mean is that I should give in to them. I am perfectly happy to detect, recognize and analyse emotions. This is a useful skill and I would like to be better at it. Occasionally an emotion can be enjoyed - the gratitude I felt when my sister Anya visited me during my bad times, the relaxing sensation after a glass of wine - but we need to alert that emotions do not immobilize us.

I diagnosed brain activity overload and therefore, I set up a spreadsheet to analyse the situation.

I began listing the recent disturbances to my schedule. Two came out positive. The grounder cleaner was doing a splendid job done and had freed up my schedule incredibly. Without her, my other activities would have him impossible to do so.

I had my first qualified candidate for the Wife Project. I had decided that I wanted to have a partner and now that I have a viable applicant. Logic dictated that the Wife Project, to which I primarily planned to give all my free time, should now receive maximum attention. Here, I identified the problem #1.

My emotions were not aligned with logic. I was reluctant to pursue the opportunity.

I could not decide whether to put the Father Project as a negative or positive, but it had consumed a considerable amount of time with a zero outcome. My argument of pursuing it was always been weak, and I had done so much if what was expected of me. If Clarke wanted to continue the project she could do so. She had seen the critical steps and analysis. She could call on Lincoln whom she had befriended throughout the entire project. Or I could offer her to perform the actual testing.

I wanted to continue the Father Project. Why?

It is virtually impossible to compare the level of happiness, especially between long period of time. But if I had to choose the happiest day of my life, I would have nominated, without hesitation, the first day I spent at the Historical Grounder Museum when I was 7 years old. The second-best was my second time there and the third was the third time there. But after the recent events, I am not sure anymore. It was difficult to choose between the Historical Grounder Museum or the Reunion Cocktail Making. Should I therefore resign my job and accept Gina's job offer of business partnership? Would I permanently be happier? The idea seemed nonsensical. Preposterous.

The cause of my confusion was that I was dealing with a large amount of negative values - the massive disruption to my schedule - and positive values - the unexpected enjoyable time. I side-note the Father Project as undetermined net value and ranked it the most serious disturbance. It caused weeks of lack of concentration for the Wife Project.

The last item on my spreadsheet was the immediate risk that my nervousness about the Wife Project would affect my interaction with Luna. I was not concerned about the dancing - I am a fast learner and I can perform to meet the expectation - I am confident that I can fulfill the task just like how I get myself ready for Martial Arts competition by drinking acceptable amount of alcohol, which is not permitted for martial arts. My main concern was the social interaction with the most suitable candidate for the very first time. It would be terrible to lose a partnership just because I lost detection of sarcasm or looked at her in the eyes at the appropriate timing and depth.

I concluded to myself that Octavia was right. If this things were a great concern to Luna then she was not  _the one_ and I would be in position to readjust the questionnaire for future use.

I visited a formal costume hire establishment as recommended by Octavia and specified maximum formality. I do not want to repeat the No Dress Code Incident.

////

The ball was on a Friday evening at the reception in front of a large white mansion on the top of the hill that overlooks the sea. It was an amazing scenery a perfect place to end the night with my future wife.

For efficiency, I brought my costume to work-an off white deep V-neck satin dress and also practiced cha-cha and rhumba with the skeleton before the departure timing. While waiting for the cab that I booked I went straight to the lab and grabbed a beer from the fridge. I was missing the stimulation of the Father Project.

I arrived 7.25pm at the drive way of the great mansion, as according to plan. Behind me, another cab pulled in and a tall - but no taller than I-olive-skinned, brown-haired woman stepped out. She was wearing the world's most amazing dress: very elegant silk colorful dress (beige, green and red) - with a split on one side. Estimated age 35, BMI 22, consistent with the questionnaire through visual observations.Neither late nor too early.Could this be my future wife? It was almost unbelievable.

As I closed the cab door and took a step back, she looked at me for a moment and went straight for the door. I took a deep breath and followed. She stepped inside and looked around. And then her eyes landed on me again, this time she looks at me properly. I approached her, close enough to speak but not invading her personal space. I looked into her house and counted to 3. Then lowered my eyes a little, downwards, to not emit 'creepy heart eyes' - according to Raven.

"Hi," I said. "I'm Lexa."

She looks at me for a moment. I could see her eyes were evaluating me from top to bottom before extending her arm and shakes my hand with a low pressure.

"I'm Luna. You've... You look very formal."

"Of course, the invitation stated formal."

After 3 seconds, she started laughing. "You had me for a minute there. Oh my... You stated 'good sense of humor' on the list but you never expect a real comedian. I think you and I are gonna have so much fun."

Things were going extremely well.

The large backyard of the white mansion were crowded with dressed academics.  _Everyone_ looked at us, I presume it must be because of my company. The entire university knows that I do not date. And coming here with a companion, it was unexpected. It was obvious that we made an incredible expression. The majority of the women were wearing long gowns and gentlemen wearing suits and bow ties. I made a feminine curtsy bow and greeted the crowd. Everybody shouted their greetings. Luna seemed to enjoy the attention.

We were sitting at table 6, right beside the dance floor.Perfect location to start on our 'groove on'. In accordance to Raven's 'expert' advise, she recommended to arrive 30 minutes after the official start time. However, knowing myself I prefer to not be late but she, on the other hand, did it otherwise. This recommendation led all the seats on table 6 - according to the seating index - to be occupied except for 3 remaining seats. One of which belongs to Raven who was socializing with a bottle of red wine. Octavia was not present.

I identified Jones from Mathematics, who was dressed not in accordance to the invitation, a beige trousers and crippled polo, he was sitting beside a woman whom I recognized instantly, Zoe Monroe from the Three Tables Turn - Date Night. On Jones' other side was the cute Monty Green. There was also a man of about 30 (BMI approximately 20) who appeared to have not trimmed his curly hair as it hangs loosely over his eyes as he tries to blow it off from time to time, and beside him, the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. In contrast to the complexity of Luna's, she was wearing a green dress  with zero decoration, so minimal that it did not even have straps to hold it in place. It took me a while to realize that the wearer was none other than... Clarke Griffin.

Luna and I took the two vacant seat between Jones and Curly Hair when I felt a hold hand on my lap.

"Are you okay?" Luna asked.

"What?" I asked. All of a sudden everything came into a clearer picture now and I realized what I had been doing. So turned away from Clarke and faced Luna.

"You kind of zoned out a minute there."

"Yes," No point in denying the obvious. "I was admiring a dress."

Luna's eyebrow perks up and slowly directs to Clarke's line of sight.

"Colleague of yours?" She asked.

"No. Former project partner," I explained, despite the repetitive thoughts of wanting to continue the Father Project.

"I see." Luna nodded and seemed pleased with my answers. I was pleased too. This date is going great!

Clarke began the introductions, and I recognized the protocol that I had learned from a conference that I had never used.

"Lexa, This is Bellamy." She was gesturing to the man beside her, the Curly Hair. I extended my hand and shook, matching his given pressure which I judged to be excessive. I had an immediate negative reaction on him. I am generally not competent in analyzing human beings, except through their conversations or written communications. But I am reasonably astute at identifying learners who are likely to be disruptive.

"Your reputation precedes you," Bellamy said.

Perhaps my assessment was too hasty.

"You're familiar with my work?" I asked.

"You  can say that," He laughed, shoving his curly hair out of his eyes, which I can see to be endearing to most women.

I realized that I cannot continue the conversation without introducing Luna.

Clarke, Bellamy, allow me to present Luna."

Clarke extended her hand and shakes hers and said, "Luna..." Presenting the obvious. We had the same conversation before, I realized.

"Luna...  _Just_ Luna," Luna explained.

"Oh really!" Clarke said, seemingly surprised. She looked at me with a very confusing look before looking back at Luna. "Didn't know Lexa's into people with no last names. The last time I heard she complains about it," She said and then started laughing.

Luna and Bellamy laughed as well, except for me. I do not understand the 'joke.'

"Well, it's delighting to meet you, Luna -  _no last name._ It's great to see that Lexa _finally_ have a date."

Luna looks at me and smiled. I smiled back, as I try to analyze the sudden heavy feeling in my stomach. I think I'm going to have a stomach flu. I need water! My stomach's very unsettling.

Bellamy shook Luna's hands and smiled at each other.

My duty done, I turned to Jones, whom I had not spoken to in a long time. I've known Jones to be one of the lecturers who was even worst social inept than me. It doesn't make me feel about myself.

"Greetings, Jones. You found a partner. How many encounters were required?"

"Raven introduced us," said Jones. She was staring inappropriately at Clarke. Raven gave a 'thumbs up' signal to Jones, then moved between Luna and me with the Red Wine bottle. Luna immediately pushed away her wine glass.

"Lexa and I don't drink. Thank you very much," she said, pushing my wine glass away as well. Raven gave me a huge smile and winked. It was an odd feelings hearing Luna answering perfectly well from the questionnaire. It's like my dream was coming true.

Clarke asked Luna, "How do you and Lexa know each other?"

"We share an interest for dancing," Luna answered.

I thought it was a great reply by not referring to the Wife Project, Clarke gave me an odd look.

"Oh really? How nice." She said, " I'm a bit too busy with my PhD to have time for dancing."

"You have to be organized," Luna said. "I believe in being  _very_ organize is the key in life. Isn't that right, Lexa?"

I turned away from Clarke and nodded in response to Luna.

"Yes, it is, Luna."

"Well, kudos to you," Clarke said. "I--"

"The first time I made it into the finals of the national dancing competition, I was in the middle of my PhD. So I was having thoughts of dropping my Sailing Club or Triathlon or Grounder cookery, but..."

Clarke smiled, but not in the usual way. It seemed a little strained. "Of course not. That would have been silly. Men loves women who are sporty and intellectual. And most _definitely_ women who can cook. Right, Lexa?"

Again, Clarke smiled at an unusual way.

"I think in our generation we should overcome the stereotyping. Men and women should definitely know how to cook. Fortunate enough..." Luna said. She then placed her hand over my hand on the table. "Lexa's quite a cook!"

Octavia's suggestion that I mention my competence on the questionnaires to level up 'my game' - according to her - which was a great move. It was indeed very effective.

I saw Clarke's eyes looked at where Luna's hand was and smiled hard. "Oh she definitely is." She said, "You're gonna enjoy Lexa's cooking. You're in for a ride. We had the most amazing lobster on his balcony."

"Oh really?"

It was helpful that Clarke was recommending me to Luna, but Bellamy was displaying a typical disruptive student expression again. I applied my lecturer skills of asking him a question first.

"Are you Clarke's boyfriend?"

Bellamy did not seemed to have a quick answer, generally, when this situation happens it's my cue to continue, while still the student was very wary of me. But Clarke answered for him.

"Bellamy is doing his PhD the same time as me."

"I believe the term is  _partner,"_ Bellamy suddenly said.

"For this evening," Clarke said.

Bellamy smiled. "First date.  _Finally."_

I am no genius in comprehending words, however, with Bellamy it seems like he had been pursuing Clarke for a long time - which reflects on his ' _finally'_ retribution. (I'm getting the hang of this.) This speaks for the oddity that they don't seem to agree on the state of their relationship. Clarke turned back to Luna.

"And yours and Lexa's fist date too?"

"Correct, Clarke."

"How did you find the questionnaire?"

Luna looked quickly at me, then turned back to Clarke. "Splendid. Most women likes to talk about themselves but with Lexa, I have the chance to be known what I am capable of. We have so much in common! It's also nice to have someone focusing on me."

"I can see how that works for you," Clarke said, grabbing the dinner knife from the table.

"And a dancer," Luna said. "I can't believe my luck! You know what they say there's no substitute for hard work. What you seed is what you plant is what you reap."

Clarke picked up her wine glass. Bellamy said, "How long have  _you_ been dancing, Lexa?" Won any trophies?"

I was saved from answering Bellamy's question by the arrival of the Dean - Prof. Jaha. Wearing purely white - white tux, white pants, and white shoes. It contrasts with his skin tone and along with everyone else's black and white suit and ties.

"Oh dear," Luna said. I had a low opinion of the Dean but that comment made me uncomfortable.

"Any problem?" Clarke asked, with that brow of hers high up.

"Not at all." said Luna. "Except that with his fashion sense."

"You'll have fun with Lexa, then," Clarke said.

"I think Lexa looks  _fabulous,_ " Luna said. "It takes one to wear something so exceptionally elegant and stylish. She looks fantastic tonight!"

"Oh wait till you see what happens next," Clarke said before turning her attention at Bellamy.

I gave Luna an appreciative smile. She was exhibiting all the characteristics of what I want my partner to be - with bases on the questionnaires. There were every chance that she's perfect! Incredibly suitable to be the one for me. Bur for some reason my instincts were rebelling on me. They were refusing to acknowledge that the woman beside me was the perfect woman. Perhaps it because of the no-drinking rule. My underlying addiction to alcohol has clouded my normalcy and acted the way I did. As if this rule is making me reject someone who stopped me from drinking. I need to overcome this weakness.

We finished the appetizers and entrees and the band started playing from the stage. They were playing the oldies, songs that I heard from Clarke's beaten beetle and just like that I was back again at the heavy down poured night when the window won't crank open and I was holding on to Clarke's lubricant tube. I caught Clarke's eyes.

Bellamy walked over to them and took the microphone and announced, "Good evening everyone," he said. "I thought you should know that we have a former dancing competition champion in the midst of us tonight! You may have seen her on tv or newspapers. Luna. Let's give Luna and her partner Lexa a  few minutes to entertain us."

I had not expected the my first dance with Luna - or  my first dance exhibition  _for the first time_ \- would be publicly, but there's an advantage of an unobstructed dance floor. I have given lectures and did martial arts exhibition in front of a crowd before, so there's no reason to be nervous. Luna and I stepped into dance floor.

I took her in the strong standard rhumba hold that I had practiced with the skeleton, and immediately, I recognized the awkwardness, approaching revulsion, that I feel when I'm forced to have a close contact with another human being. I had mentally prepares myself for this, but not for the more serious problem. _I had not practiced with music._ I am 99.9% sure that I know the accuracy of the steps but not on the precise speed and not at the same time as the beat that was playing by the band.

We were immediately tripping on each other and the twirl effect was a _disaster._ She wanted to go the side but I was on the opposite. Luna tried to take a lead but I had no experience with a living partner, let alone one who was trying to be in control.

People were starting to laugh. I am an expert at being laughed at and as Luna pulled away from me, I scanned the crowd immediately to detect faces who are not laughing - the best method in knowing who truly are your friend. Raven and Clarke and surprisingly, the Dean - Prof. Jaha were my friends tonight. Bellamy was definitely not.

Something huge was needed to save the predicament. In my dancing research, I had noted some dance moves that I was not intending to use but took a note of because they were so interesting. They had the advantage of not being highly dependent on synchronized timing or body contact. Now was the perfect time to deploy them.

I performed the running man, the peel banana, the drowning man, the swimming man, the famous teach me how to dougie, twerking, shuffling and the fishing imitation to reel Luna in, though she did not made an effort to move for the dance move to work. In fact she was just standing straight, staring at me. Finally, I attempted to do my final dance move, a body-contact move in which the lead would swing her partner to the side and reel her in by twirling and then laid her on my leg as a support as we extends our arms for the finishing touches. Primarily, this works if your partner were cooperating which in this situation Luna takes my advances as me attacking her. Unlike martial arts, dancing training apparently does not include practice in falling safely.

I offered my hand to help her up but she shoved it away and walked towards the bathroom, apparently uninjured.

I went back to the table and sat down. Bellamy was laughing.

"You bastard," Clarke told him.

Raven said something to Clarke, presumably to prevent inappropriate scene to take part due to anger and she seemed to calm down.

Luna came back to the table but not to sit down but to retrieve her handbag.

"The problem was synchronization," I tried to explain but it fell into a deaf ears." The metronome in my head is not in sync with the bands beats."

Luna turned away and headed for the door, I turned to my other side to see Clarke seemed to be ready to listen to my explanation. "I turned off the sound during practice so I won't get distracted while practicing the steps."

Clarke did not reply but nodded. I heard Luna speaks to Bellamy. "It happens. This isn't the first time that my date would lie to me about knowing how to dance." She walked off towards the exit without saying goodbye to me, but Raven followed and intercepted her.

This gave me an opportunity to retrieve myself. I took back my wine glass and filled it up with red wine. I drank in 3 easy gulps. Clarke got up from her seat and walked over to the band and whispered to the singer - who spoke to the drummer and guitarists.

She returned and pointed at me in a stylized manner. I recognized the action it was the signal that Patrick Swayze gave to Jennifer Grey when they were about to dance on stage 'Time of our life,' that I had practiced with the skeleton in which Raven had disrupted me before. Clarke pulled me on the dance floor.

"Dance, Woods!" She said. "Just fucking dance!"

I started dancing without music. This was what I had practiced. Clarke soon followed my tempo. Then soon her back was pressed against my front as I led her arm around my neck and slides down my hand to her abdomen to twirl her around. Then I heard the guitarist and started playing and could tell in my body movements they were in tune with us. I barely noticed that the entire band soon started.

Clarke was a good dancer and considerably easier to manipulate than the skeleton. I led her through the more difficult and fast feet movements and sways, completely focused on the mechanics and not making errors. The  _Dirty Dancing_ song finished and everyone got up from their seats and clapped.

But before we could return to our table, the feeling was back. The feeling of great  _satisfaction_ was settling in the pit of my stomach and I could feel it in my chest. It's the same tingling feeling I felt when I went to the Historical Grounder Museum or the Reunion Cocktail Making. I would say that the red wine got something to do with it, having me feeling relax throughout the entire ordeal - it was an extraordinary feeling.

We started dancing again and this time focusing on how my body feels and react as I pulled Clarke in and twirl her around on my childhood song. The music finished and everyone clapped again.

I looked at Luna presumed that she had seen the situation and feel impressed by it. I saw her by the exit with Raven, I am no expert in reading facial expression and also due to the distance between the dance floor and the exit, but she seems furious. She turned and left.

The rest of the evening was incredible, changed entirely by one dance.  _Everyone_ got up, left their seats and starts lining up in front of us to give us congratulatory. The hired photographer gave each of us a photo and never charged us. Bellamy left early. Raven obtained some high-end champagne from the bar, and we drank several glasses with her and her partner from Scandinavian Professor named Eva.

Clarke and I danced again and then after I believe I managed to dance with every woman in the ball! I asked Raven if I could invite the Dean to dance with me as well but she advised that it's not a good idea. Realizing that Prof. Jaha was in a deeply bad mood, this seems like a pretty good idea to let him be, the crowd wasn't seemed interested in hearing the universities future agendas.

At the end of the night, the band played their last song and once it ended it was me and Clarke were left on the dance floor and everyone applauded again. It was only later did I realized that I had an extended close human - contact for a long time and I don't even feel uncomfortable - I even got my steps right.

"Hey Lex. Do you wanna share a cab?" Clarke asked.

It seemed to be a sensible reason to save fossil fuel.

In the taxi, Clarke said, "You should have practiced with different beats. You're not as smart as you thought you were."

I just looked out of the window of the taxi.

Then she suddenly said, "What? No way! No freaking way! You did, didn't you? That's even worse! You'd rather make a fool of yourself in front of everyone than tell her you don't float her boat."

"It would have been extremely awkward. I had no reason to reject her."

"Besides not wanting to marry a parakeet," she said.

I found this extremely funny, no doubt as a result of alcohol and good outlet of stress. We both laughed for several more minutes, and Clarke even touched my knees a few times and leaned against my shoulders quite a few times as well. I felt awkward again and averted my eyes.

"God, you're unbelievable," She said. " Look at me when I'm talking, Lexa."

I stick to looking outside my window. I was already too over-stimulated.

"I knew what you looked like, Clarke." I said.

"What color my eyes are?"

"Blue." I answered, "It's light and bright when it's day time, or when you were laughing or when you were telling a joke. It darkens if you were furious or when you didn't have your morning coffee." 

"Very observant. But nope, it turns red," she said. 

I looked at Clarke. She have the usual cheeky grin. 

"Your eyes turns red? Humanly impossible," I said and returned back to window gazing. 

Then I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned. 

"Aaaahh!!!" I felt my chest palpitating very fast as I watched Clarke laughed at me. Clarke had her inner eye lids folded inside out and it was surprising unattractive like for Clarke. 

"God, Lexa. You're so easy to scare," she laughed again, leaning against my shoulder heavily. 

I moved uncomfortably and said, "mockery is not a product of a strong mind, Clarke." 

"I was just playing around with you, Lexa," she said, touching my knee again. I even felt a squeeze. 

I was having trouble to stay away from Clarke's warmth and this is probably due to the alcohol and her perfume. However, with the easy going plight she had made it easier to continue with the conversation on safe ground. I was thinking of things to say, particularly a joke to reciprocate the effort done by Clarke and so as to filled up the remaining car ride. But I realised this was a self-defence mechanism and impolite as it seems for Clarke who had risked considerable embarrassment and damage to her night and relationship with Bellamy for my benefit. 

I recollected my thoughts and re-instated my statement. 

"I know you are. But you did well tonight, Clarke. You've danced very well," I complimented her and I received a toothy grin. 

"Thank you. After all the practices I had with Kane, it finally paid off," she laughed. 

"Kane taught you how to dance?" I asked, it seems like the opposite characteristics of what Clarke told me previously. 

"He used to," She then paused for a moment, "He's just all over the place - One day I'll be the most important girl in the entire universe. Teaching how to dance. Giving me stuff. Next day, he didn't want me there. Like I don't exist at all. And mostly nowadays, it's the latter."

"Kane's seems inconsistent of a father figure. Which is a normal behaviour for some father's towards their adoptive children." 

Clarke laughed, bitterly? "I bet it is. At one point he promised me to take me to the City of Light theme park. And I told everyone in school. But I waited, waited and waited. Still waited. Up to this point I know it's such a petty  thing to do but I was still waiting." 

The taxi stopped by the red light. Clarke kept talking, looking at her hands on her lap. "So I have this thing with rejections." She turned to me. "How do  _you_ deal with it?" 

"The problem never occured," I simply stated. It wasn't the right time to make a new conversation. 

"Bullshit! I studied psychology too, Lexa. I read  _right through you_." It appeared I need to answer honestly. I'm in the presence of a psychology student. 

I nodded once. "There's some problems in school." I said. "Hence, the martial arts. But I've came in terms of not using violence against bullies." 

"Just like tonight." 

"I emphasised the things that people found amusing." 

Clarke did not respond. I recognised the technique from my appointments with my psychiatrists, I don't want to pursue but I feel I am obligated to somehow. 

"I didn't have any friends. I was all alone. Completely zero, except for my sister. Unfortunately, she had been busy with her daily activities that her weekly visits were coming up short. 

"Oh Lexa...," Clarke said, sympathetically - squeezing my thigh again. I sensed that I had chosen correctly to whom I confide to. 

"Is she in a relationship?" 

"No. She never talked about it. Although she did wanted to be in the Army but she's in the marketing industry. I know it's a total unrelated topic but..." I said, seeing that smile forming on Clarke's lips. Why is it so shiny? She must have used lipgloss. 

I felt uncomfortable again for talking too much around Clarke. 

"What's her name?" 

"Anya" I said to Clarke. After that neither of us spoke for awhile. 

The taxi driver coughed artificially, like the one used for the beer signal. Unfortunately, I do not have beer with me or no nearest convenient store to get him one. But then I presumed it wasn't for the beer. 

"Hey, do you wanna come up?" Clarke asked. 

I was feeling overwhelmed and incredibly warm all over. Some of Clarke's weight were still leaning on me. Meeting Luna, dancing, rejection by Luna, social overload, discussion of personal matters - and now, just when I thought that the situation is over, there goes Clarke proposing for more conversation. I don't think I could cope much longer. 

"It's extremely late, Clarke," I said. I know this must be the sociable accepting excuse of I want to go home already. 

"The taxi fair goes down again in the morning." She said. "I'm pretty sure it'll be fine in a couple of hours." 

If I understood correctly, I am now definitely far out of my depth. I needed to be sure that I wasn't misinterpreting what she was saying. 

"Are you suggesting that I spend the night, Clarke?" 

"Maybe. But first you have to listen to the story of my life." 

 _Warning! Warning! Red zone alert! Deep waters! Deep waters!_ I could feel myself sinking into the abyss of emotions. Fortunately, I managed to stay calm and remained normalcy. 

"Unfortunately, I have numerous activities in the morning, Clarke." 

Clarke opened her door and encouraged her to go. But she have more things to say. 

"Lexa, can I ask you something?" 

"One question." 

"Do you find me attractive?" 

Raven told me the next day that I got it all completely wrong. But she was not in the taxi, I was. And after an evening of total sensory/social overload, with the most beautiful and gorgeous woman in the world - I believe I did well. I detected the trick question. I wanted Clarke to like me and I remembered her passionate statement about men treating women like objects. And how I act like as if I was like one of the guys. She was testing to see if I saw her as an object or as a person with feelings.

Obviously, the correct answer was the latter! And what I told her made me feel so great about myself for not falling for the stereotyping no more.  

 "I haven't really noticed," I told the most beautiful woman in the world. 


	8. The Coitus Presumable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The part where Lexa was thrown off of being oblivious of Clarke's intention and when she tries to redeem herself. She just made a 'Lexa' about it. (And yes, I just used her name as an action word.) Enjoy this post! 
> 
> Cheers!

I texted Raven from the taxi. It was 1:31am but she had left the ball the same time as I did, and had further distance to travel.

_Alexandria Woods: Urgent: Run tomorrow 6am_

_Raven Reyes: Sunday at 8: Bring Luna's info._

I was about to insist to prefer the earlier date when I realised that I could essentially use the time to reflect on my thoughts.

It seemed obvious that Clarke was inviting me to have sex with her.

I was right to avoid the situation. We were both drunk, a quite substantial amount of alcohol, and notorious to encourage unwise decisions about sex. Clarke is the perfect example. Her mother's decision, without a doubt prompt by alcohol, was still causing Clarke significant distress.

My own sexual experience was only to a minimum: very limited. Raven had advised me that it's conventional to wait till the third date  and then perform coitus. But a problem rises, my dating experiences never passed the first date. In fact, with my dating experience with Clarke, technically, we only had one date - the night of the No Dress Code Disaster and the Balcony Meal.

I did not used any brothels or any forms of such services, not for moral reasons but because I found the idea repulsive. This was not a rational reason, but since the benefit that I was seeking was only primeval, a primitive reason was sufficient enough.

However, now that I have a reason to achieve that opportunity - in which Raven lavishly called 'no-strings attached sex' - I seemed to 'destroyed my future offsprings' which was scientifically implausible and the 'cobwebs' (which Raven had added) was yet growing thicker by the day which I believe is yet another implausible occurrence _scientifically._ But I do understand the co-relation with the statement. But the required conditions were in placed: Clarke and I had specifically agreed that neither of us were suitable and interested in a romantic relationship, then Clarke indicated that she wanted to have sex with me.

Did I want to have sex with Clarke?

There seemed no logical reason not to, leaving the reason to my primitive desire - which is normal for human beings. The answer is clear and distinctive 'Yes.' Having this rational reasons I could not think of any other else.

On Sunday, Raven met me outside their building. I brought along Luna's information - Mexican. Raven was very pleased with her fellow latina.

Raven wanted my full experience with Clarke but I had made a decision to tell her and Octavia at the same time so as not to repeat twice: very efficient. Furthermore, It was hard to decipher what Raven was saying while she pants and groans as we conduct our morning run.

When we returned to her apartment Octavia was in the kitchen cooking something good. It was very aromatic.

I sat down and said, "I required some advice." When I heard a bark. A  _dog_ bark.

A golden retriever came running towards me, wagging its tail and licking my exposed legs. I had never felt disgusted in my entire life! The germs!

"Is that a dog?" I asked. I pulled up my legs over the other chair but the  _animal_ pawed up on my seat,  _barking_ _and sniffing._ I know it is an obvious question but nonetheless, I was surprised.

"Why, yes it is, Professor Woods! Great observation! 50 points for Woods Clan!" Raven mused and I could sense sarcasm.

"You have a dog," I said. Another obvious statement.

"Yes." Octavia said this time. Placing a full plate of pancake on the table. "Raven found him at the park. There's a sign around his neck saying 'please adopt me!'" Octavia was making a pouty face and then she laughed. She was like a whirlwind of emotions. I couldn't catch up, now she's upset and mad. "I can't believe someone would just dump this cute little fella in the park! What if he got kidnapped?! What if he got run over by a truck?! Or worse! Taken away by someone else who's  _not_ us??!!"

Raven was rolling her eyes. "Anyway... now we have a little baby in the house! Isn't that right, fish? Who's our little baby? Yes you are!" The  _animal_ was licking her face. Oh the possible diseases!

After licking Raven's face, the  _animal_ barks and came running towards my direction. I had the fright of my life! The  _animal_ lifted its paws onto my chair and starts barking! How could I continue with my mission if this little  _animal_ caused so much distraction! This is the reason why I dislikes owning an animal. A mere distraction to what was far more important.

"So! What's up in your grill today, Commander?" Octavia asked.

Finally! Someone's directing on the right path. 

"I may have a social error. I broke one of Raven's rules."

Raven said, "Lexa, I think the Latina chic has danced  _far faaaarrr_ away. Take that as an experience. A lesson learned."

"The rules applied to Clarke not Luna. Never pass a chance to have coitus with a woman above consenting age but below my current age."

"Raven told you that?" said Octavia. She was giving Raven a very pointy look which Raven simply shrugs away. "Well that's a ridiculous thing to say!"

"I thought I should consult with you because you're the most rational and with Raven because of her intensive experience," I continued.

Raven seemed to agree.

"In my well spent youth," Raven said. "I think I have a handful advice to give you- Fuck! Fiissshhh!!!!"

Raven immediately got up from her seat and wagged her leg. I presumed the animal is in grave danger.

"The  _animal_ urinated on your feet," I said.

Octavia grunted and immediately ran to the storage room retrieving a mop. Raven was by then limping for the bathroom. And I, once again, was left to my own device with the  _animal_ staring at me.

Another uneventful day ruined and this time by a tiny little animal. I hate animals.

"Octavia! The  _animal_ kept following me!" I said.

I rounded the table but the animal came charging towards me from the other side. I tried to run to the living room but it barks and ran after me. The horror!

"Octavia! Get the  _animal_ away from me!"

I had never felt so violated in my entire life!

"The 'animal' has a name, Lexa," Octavia said, after moping the urine on the floor. "And it's Fish."

"That's a very incompatible name, Octavia. This _animal_ is clearly not a marine animal but a mammal. I do not think that name is suitable for a dog."

"Hey! Get your own dog, you sadist!" Raven said, wiping her leg with a towel.

The  _animal_ finally left my personal space and I hopped down from the couch and approached Raven.

"Raven I need advice-..."

"We can discuss it tomorrow during lunch," She said.

"But what about Octavia?"

Octavia came out of the bathroom and said, "whatever 'advice' Raven will say will always be a bad thing." She isn't seemed impressed. "But if you need anything at all Lexa I'm here for you. Raven is just the terrible side in our duo and I'm the better one." She winked, shouldering her duffel bag from the floor. "I really have to go for practice. I'll see you bitches later!"

Like I said, another day turned inefficient due to some unforeseen circumstances. Now there's a dog named Fish.

/////

"You said what?!" Raven wasn't seemed impressed. She put down her fork and gave me that serious look - just as the same when I told her that I rejected the female Professor at the Mathematical Department to go on a horseback riding with her. She said that it was not technically horseback riding that Professor Ingrid was referring to; if it is not, then I don't know what else was she referring to.

We were eating lunch at the quad in the middle of the University as scheduled.

"I said I hadn't noticed her appearance. I didn't want her to think that I saw her as a sexual object."

"God..." Said Raven. "Are you fucking kidding me, Lexa? The one time you think before you speak is the one time you shouldn't have!"

"I should have said she was beautiful?" I was hesitant.

"DUH!" It seems like I was incorrect the first time. "That'll explain the cake."

I must have looked blank. For obvious reasons.

"She's been smouldering herself with chocolate cake at her desk. Very early in the morning for breakfast."

This seemed to me an unhealthy choice of living, not only with smoking and her poor life choices for instance, her beaten beetle with no side mirrors. But Raven assured me that it was to make herself feel better. Having supplied Raven with my background information. I presented my problem.

"So you're saying that she's not  _the one,"_ Raven said. "Not a life partner."

"Without a doubt unsuitable. But she's extremely attractive. If I'm going to have uncommitted coitus with anyone, Clarke's the perfect candidate. She has no emotional attachment to me either."

"So why the stress?" Said Raven. "You have had sex before?"

"Of course," I answered. "My doctor is strongly in favour."

"Aaahh the wonders of medical science." She was probably making a joke.

I explained further. "It's just that adding a second person makes it more complicated."

"Naturally," She said. "I should have thought of that. Why not get a book?"

/////

The information was available on the internet, but a few minutes of browsing the search results on 'sexual positions  _for lesbians'_ \- Raven stresses - convinced me that getting a book is probably more relevant with the tutorials with less extraneous information. I may have found out what Professor Ingrid and Raven, Horseback riding was referring to.

I had no difficulty finding a suitable book and back in the office, I selected a random position. It was called scissoring. I tried it - simple. But as I had explained to Raven, the problem was the involvement of the second person. I got the skeleton from the closet and arranged it in front of me with my left leg over  _his_ right bone leg, following the diagram in the book.

There is a rule in the University that no one opens a door without knocking first. It's for security and privacy of the professors. Raven violates this rule every single time in my case but we are good friends. I do not consider Professor Jaha, the Dean as my friend. It was an embarrassing moment, especially as the Dean was accompanied by another person. It was fortunate that I had kept all my clothes on.

"Professor Lexa," He said. "If you can leave off repairing that skeleton for a moment, I'd like you to meet Mr Cuyley Ridley from the Medical Research Council. He have great fascinations with the Grounder history and their medical expertise. I mentioned your work from this topic and he was keen to meet you. To consider a  _funding package."_ He emphasised the last two words as though I was so unconnected with University politics that I might forget that funding was the centre of his world.

I recognised Cuyley instantly. He was the former father candidate who worked at Ark University and who prompted the cup-stealing incident. He also recognised me.

"Lexa and I had met," he said. "His partner is considering to apply for the MD programme. And we met recently at a social occasion." He winked at me. "I don't think you're paying your academic staff enough, Jaha."

We had a fascinating discussion about my research on the historic ground breaking medical findings in relation to turning a reaper into a normal functional human being. I had further discussed about the techniques and methodologies of such research with a partnership with the medical department and repeatedly pointed out that I had designed the research so there was no need for external grants. The Dean was making hand signals and contorting face, and I guessed that he wants me to misrepresent my study as requiring funding, so that he could use the fundings to some other projects than on its own merits. I chose to show my lack of understanding on social interaction but this had intensified the Dean's signalling.

It was only afterwards that I realised I shouldn't have not left the sexual position book open on the floor.

I decided that 15 sex positions would be sufficient enough. More could be learned if the initial distraction did not take place. It did not take long to learn the subjects and it is shorter than learning how to dance. In terms of reward for effort, it seemed strongly preferable to dancing and I was greatly looking forward to it.

I went to visit Clarke in her university building. The PhD student's area was a small classroom with 5 rows of long tables. I counted 12 students, including Clarke and Bellamy, who was seating right beside Clarke.

"You're all over Facebook, Lexa," He turned to Clarke. "You'll have to update your relationship status." The smile he was showing Clarke was something that Clarke obviously did not like. I want to wipe it off of his face.

On his screen was a magnificent photo of Clarke and me dancing, similar to the one that the photographer had given me and which now sat on by my computer at home and the office.

I was spinning Clarke and facial expression indicated extreme happiness. I was technically not 'tagged' on the photo because I do not participate on any social media platform - not an interest of mine. I believe I will be the worst social media user in the world. But our name were added on the photo.

_Professor Alexandria Woods of History Department and Clarke Griffin PhD Candidate._

"Don't ask me about it," Clarke said.

"You don't like the photo?" It sounds like a bad sign.

"It's Kane. I don't like him seeing this."

"You think your father would spend his free time browsing on Facebook, checking out what her daughter is up to?" Bellamy emitted a small laugh. Clarke wasn't so impressed.

"Wait till he calls," Clarke said. " 'How much is she earning?' Are you screwing with her?''She works for who?' 'What does she works for?'"

"Very typical questions for a father to ask about her daughter's dating partner," Bellamy said.

"I am not dating, Lexa," she said. She almost looked offended. A very bad sign. "We shared a cab. That's all. Right, Lexa?"

"Correct." I said.

Clarke faced Bellamy, "So you shove your little attitude up your ass where it truly belongs."

"Woah. Chill, C. You know I was only kidding! I wouldn't do anything to hurt you. Octavia's gonna kill me if even laid a finger on you." He said. I got confused.

"Octavia?" I asked.

"Bellamy's little sister," Clarke informed.

"I see," It completely made sense! The sibling resemblances. "You have a very strong genes."

Bellamy looked at me as if my words confused him. It's very direct already. I do not see any reason to cause any confusion. So I directed my attention back to Clarke.

"I need to talk to you in private, Clarke."

Clarke looked at me very directly. "I don't think there's any reason for us to talk in private. You can say it all in front of my peeps." She made a huge arm gesture, even though, Bellamy was only present in paying attention. I presumed that Clarke and Bellamy were friends that they share enough information with each other, just like Raven and I.

"Very well," I said. "I am reconsidering your offer of sex."

Bellamy put his hands over his mouth. There was small sound of - I believe - gasps and then a long silence. I would estimate approximately 10 seconds.

Then Clarke said, "Lexa, it was a joke. I was only kidding!"

I could not make sense of this. Was I missing something? I could understand that she might have changed her mind. Perhaps the problem around the sexual objectification response had been lethal.

But a joke? Surely I could not be so insensitive to social cues to have missed the fact that she was 'only kidding.' Yes, I could have failed to detect jokes in the past. Very frequently missed the cues. A joke... I had been obsessing over a joke!

"Oh... Of course. When should we meet about the other project?"

Clarke looked down at her desk. "There is no other project, Lexa."

/////

For a week, I did my best to get back on the regular routine, using the freed time that the Grounder lady's cleaning and the cancelation of the Father's Project to catch with my meditation and martial arts that I had been missing.

Sensei, Indra, a woman who says very little with a very piercing 'deadly' look - according to Raven - pulled me aside as I was working the punching bag in the dojo. 

"Something's bothering you, Alexandria. Something had made you angry," she said. That was all. 

She knew me well enough to know that once an emotion was identified I would not let it defeat me. But she was right to speak to me, I was being angry without even realising it.

I was briefly angry with Clarke because she unexpectedly refused me something I wanted. But then I become more angry with myself over my incompetence of social interaction that had undoubtedly embarrassed Clarke. 

I made several attempts to contact Clarke and I always receives her answering machine. After much attempts, I finally left a message: "What if you got incredibly ill and needed blood transfusion, your father will be a great candidate - of course having known you have the similar bloody type as him? But how would you know if you didn't want to continue with the project? Your father can assist you with a strong motivation! Failure to complete the project could result in death, Clarke. There are only 11 candidates remaining." 

Clarke did not returned my call. 

"This things happen, Lexa," Octavia said during our 7th coffee meeting in 4 weeks. "You get involved with a woman, it doesn't work out. And now you're just lost..." 

Lost. So that was it. I had, in my own way, become 'involved' with Clarke and now, I was 'lost'. 

"What should I do, Octavia?" 

"It's not that easy," She said. "Everyone will tell you the same thing. Move on. And something even greater will turn up." 

"Did you?" I asked. 

"What?" Octavia seemed surprised by my question. 

"Did you moved on from Raven?" I repeated again due to the lack of context. 

Octavia sighed and took a sip of her coffee. "I'm trying. Look, Lexa moving on after being involved with someone can be tough and-... And just plain painful... But that's just how it is. That's how life is. We do things that will help us survive." 

Octavia's logic, built on self experience, was obviously superior to my own irrational feelings. But as I reflected on it, I realised that her advice, and indeed the study of human psychology itself, truly embodies the result of research on _normal humans_. I am fully aware that I have some unusual characteristics. Was it possible that Octavia's advice was not appropriate for me? 

I decided on a compromised course of action. I would continue the Wife Project. If (and  _only_ If) there was further time available, I would use it for the Father Project, proceeding alone. If I could present Clarke with the solution, perhaps we could become friends again. 

Based on Luna Disaster I revised the questionnaire, adding more stringent criteria. With bases on experience, I had included questions on Dancing, Squash and Goldfish to eliminate candidates who would require me to gain competence on such useless activities, and increased the difficulties on History and Biology problems. Option (B)  _moderately_ would be the  _only_ acceptable answer to the alcohol question. I organised the responses to go directly to Raven, who was obviously engaging in the well-established research practice of making secondary use of the data. She could advise me if anyone met my criteria.  _Exactly._

In the waiting line for the Wife Project, I thought hard on the best way of getting DNA samples for the Father Project. 

The answer came to me as I was watching a documentary of a squid giving birth. The candidates were doctors who would presumably be willing to participate or contribute to medical history research. I just needed a plausible excuse to ask for their DNA. Thanks to the Coffee Swab Disaster where I formulated the Grounder Ritual Project, I had one. 

I pulled out my list of 11 names. 2 were confirmed dead, leaving 9 names, 9 whom were living overseas or in another state which explains their absence at the reunion. But 3 had local phone numbers. One was the head of the Medical Research Institute at my own university. I rang it first. 

"Professor Tristan's office," said a woman's voice. 

"It's Professor Woods from the Department of History. I'd like to invite Professor Tristan to participate in a research project." 

"Professor Tristan is on sabbatical in Europe. He'll be back in a week." 

"Excellent. The project is  _Grounder Ritual Project._ I need him to complete a questionnaire that I will be sending tonight and please advise that DNA sample will be needed. Thank you. Have a good day." 

3 days later, I had succeeded in locating all 9 living candidates and posted them questionnaires, created by my previous personal research papers, and cheek scrapers. The questionnaires were irrelevant, but were needed to make the project more legitimate. My covering letter made clear my credentials as a professor of history at a prestigious university. In the meantime, I needed to find the living relatives of the 2 dead doctors. 

I found an obituary for Dr Gideon DeSantis, a victim of street shooter gone wild - his throat was slit by a dagger, on the public library. It mentioned his daughter, a medical student at that time of his death. I had no trouble tracking down Dr. Mel DeSantis and she was happy to participate in the survey with an additional piece of paper with her phone number written on it. Excellent. 

Shawn Gillmer was a much more difficult challenge. He had died 2 years later after graduating by being stabbed to death by a psychiatric patient. I had long found an article on the internet, he had not been married and had no children. 

Meanwhile the DNA samples returns to my address. 2 doctors, both in Ark City, declined the project. Why would a medical practitioners not participate in an important study? Are they not interested to know their ancestral and the studies it could provide to the future generations? Did they have something to hide? Such as an illegitimate daughter in the same city that the request came from? It occured to me that if the doctors realised my motives, they could simply send back a friend's DNA sample. At least refusal was better than cheating. 

7 candidates including Dr Mel DeSantis, returned samples. None of them were Clarke's father or half-sister. Professor Tristan returned from his sabbatical and wanted to see me in person. 

"I'm here to collect a package from Professor Tristan," I said to the receptionist at the city hospital where he was based, avoiding an actual meeting and interrogation. I was unsuccessful. She buzzed the phone, announced my name, and Professor Tristan appeared. 

He was I assumed, approximately, 56 years old. I may have read his information on the internet before coming to the place of meeting as to not appeared unprepared. He was carrying a large envelope, presumably containing the questionnaire, which was destined for the recycling bin, and his DNA. 

As he reached me, I tried to take the envelope, but he extended his other hand to shake mine. It was awkward but the net result was that we shook hands and still not giving the envelope. 

"Tristan," he said. I have known that already. "So, what are you really after, Professor Woods?" 

This was totally unexpected. Why should he question my motives? 

"Your DNA," I said. "And the questionnaire. For a major research study. Highly important for the future." I was feeling stressed and my voice was surely affected. 

"I'm sure it is," Tristan laughs. "And you randomly select the head of the medical research as a subject?" 

"We were looking for high achievers." 

"What's Charlie after this time?" 

"Charlie?" I didn't personally know anyone called Charlie. Except for the famous comedian Charlie Chaplin. But I had never known him personally because he's dead. 

"All right," He said. "Dumb question. How much do you want me to put in?" 

"No putting in is required. There is no Charlie involved. I just required the DNA... And the questionnaire." 

Tristan laughs again. "Okay, okay, genius. You got my attention. You can tell Charlie that. Shoot me through the project description and the ethics approval. The whole shenanigans, in fact." 

"Then can I have the sample?" I said. "I high response rate is critical for the statistical analysis." 

"Just send me the paperworks." 

Tristan's request was entirely reasonable. Unfortunately, there had been changes to be made for my previous research project and now, I have to redo the paper which requires potentially hundreds of hours of work. 

I attempted an estimation of the probability that Tristan was Clarke's father. There were now 4 untested candidates:Tristan and Shawn Gillmer (Dead) and 2 from Ark City - Vincent Vie and Delano. On a probability scale, each candidates have at least 25% of being Clarke's father. But considering other probabilities. Some samples were taken on the candidates relatives and not directly. It was possible that some samples were due to extra-relationship sex, which Raven, points out to be very common. And there's a possibility for the DNA samples to be fictitious or sending out a false sample. 

I also considered that Clarke's mother wasn't telling her the truth. It took me a long processing time to think about this, as my default assumption is that people will be honest. 

But perhaps Clarke's mother wanted Clarke to believe that her father is just like her, a doctor, rather than a less prestigious person. On the other hand, I estimated Tristan's probability of being Clarke's father was 14%. In developing a false paperworks regarding the research project I will be spending a large quality of my time and effort for a person with a low probability. Was is worth it? 

I chose to proceed. The decision was barely rational. 

In the midst of my paperworks, I received a phone from a solicitor to advise me that Titus had died. Despite that he had died for some time, this does not surprised me, but nonetheless, I detected in myself an unexpected feeling of loneliness. Our friendship had been simple. Everything was so much complicated now. 

The reason for the call was that Titus had left me, as according to the solicitor, a 'small sum' in his will. $10,000. And he had also left a letter, written before he was gone to live with the nursing home. It was handwritten in a very simple piece of paper. 

_Dear Lexa,_

_Thank you for making my final years incredibly stimulating. After my wife died I did no believe there's so much in me to live for. I'm sure you know how much you've taught me, and how interesting our conversation have been, but you may not realised how wonderful of a company you are and support you have been to me._

_I once told you that you will be someone's wonderful wife, and, in case you've forgotten, I am telling you again, Lexa. I'm sure if you look hard enough, she might be just right under your nose._

_Do not give, Lexa._

_I know you don't need the money and I know that my children needed it more than you do. But still, I am giving you a small sum. I would be pleased if you use it for something IRRATIONAL. _

_Much love,_  
Your friend,   
The fire keeper,   


**_Titus_ **

It took me ten seconds to think of an irrational purchase. In fact, I only give myself that much small time frame to prevent myself from thinking logically with my future uses of the small sum. 

The Ground Ritual Project was very fascinating but very time consuming. The final proposal was magnificent and surpass as a real research project. But a problem rises, I had not submitted it to the funding organisation but I will be implying that it did, with critical forgery of the approval letter. 

I called Tristan's personal assistant and explained that I had forgotten to send him the document, hence, I will be visiting him to give it myself. I was becoming more competent at deception. 

I arrived at the office and the process of summoning Tristan repeated. This time he was not holding an envelope. I tried to give him the documents and he tried to shake my hand, we had a repeat of confusion that had occured previously. Tristan seemed to find it hilarious. I was getting confused and incredibly tensed. After all the hard work, all I wanted was the DNA. 

"Greetings," I said. "Documentation as requested. All requirements have been fulfilled. I now need the DNA sample and questionnaire. Thank you very much."

Tristan laughs again and looked at me up and down. Was there something odd about the way I dress? I tried not to repeat wearing the same blouse twice in a week. And I think my plain pink long sleeves is just appropriate with my black slacks that I had ironed to crisp the night before. I think this outfit is very suitable for lectures, studies, and even physical activities with my black loafers shoes. The only error was that my socks, which would have been visible below my slacks, were slightly off colour compared to my block colours I was wearing. It was a rainbow, it was gift from Raven. I knew I shouldn't have worn it but I had no choice as all of my socks are all in the washer. But Tristan seemed to find everything amusing. I do not understand.

"Beautiful!" He said. Then he repeated my words seemed to be in an exact way as I did. I assume this was him teasing me. It was the same way that Clarke had done before. "All requirements acquired." And then he's back to his normal voice. "Tell Charlie I promise to read the proposal."

Charlie again! Who is Charlie?! This is utterly ridiculous!

"The DNA," I said, forcefully. "I need the sample."

Tristan laughed again as though I made the biggest joke ever. There were tears running down his face. _Actual tears._

"Oh Professor Woods, you truly made my day!"

He grabbed a tissue from the tissue box by the reception table and wipe away his tears and then blow his nose and throws it in the trash can as he left with my proposal.

I walked to the trash can and retrieved the tissue.

/////

I sat with a newspaper in the University Cafeteria for the fourth day of trial and error. I wanted it to look accidental or purely coincidental. From my position, I could observe the queue that Clarke usually buys her lunch, even though it was graded C by Polis Environmental Agency. Another health hazard that Clarke ignores. I had mentioned my plan to Raven the previous night and she seemed reluctant about it. 

"Lexa, I think it's time to leave this one out... You're only gonna get hurt." 

I disagree. I am very good in handling emotions. I am already ready for rejections. As I always am. 

"Lexa, listen to me. Just stop what you are doing. Trust me. Clarke isn't worth it." Raven insisted. 

"I  _know_ what I am doing, Raven. I have studied this course of action meticulously-..." 

"Lexa! Are you listening to yourself?" Raven cut in in between my sentences. I was starting to feel agitated. My stress level is at its peaks. "Just leave Clarke alone. Just move on with your other projects- The Wife Project! You have better things to do rather than this piece of crap. You're gonna get hurt, Lexa-..." 

"I  _know_ how to separate my duty with my feelings _,_ Raven." I suddenly said. I wasn't even aware where my anger was coming from. 

Raven looks at me tiredly. And I tried to keep my fast heart beat to normal pace. It felt like I had been running all this while. "I wanna be her friend again, Raven. I can't-..." 

"I understand, Lexa. Well best of luck." 

////

Clarke walked in and joined the queue. I got up and slipped in behind her. 

"Lexa," She said. "What a coincidence." 

Excellent. I have achieved my goal of subtlety. 

"I have great news on the project." 

Clarke shakes her head. "There's no project, Lexa. I'm sorry about... The last time you saw me. Fuck! You embarrassed me and I was the one saying sorry. God... This is really something." 

"Apology accepted," I said. "I need you to come to Ark City with me." 

"What?" Clarke spun around almost instantly, hitting me on the face with her blonde hair. "No. No, Lexa. You've got to be kidding me. Absolutely not!" 

We had reached the counter and failed to select any food and had to return to the tail of the queue. By the time we sat down, I explained the Grounder Ritual Project. 

"I had to invent an entire proposal-478 pages- for this one professor. I'm now an expert on the Savant phenomenon." 

Having not fully equipped myself in reading facial expressions. It was hard to read Clarke's expression but she  _seemed_ to appear surprised and amazed. 

"Nuh-uh. An unemployed professor if you got caught!" She said. "I presume he's not my father." 

"Correct." I had been relieved that Tristan wasn't Clarke's father, even after all the considerable amount of time and effort in doing the fictitious project just to obtain the sample. I have already planned out my next steps and if the result turned positive, it would have greatly disrupted them. 

"There are now only 3 possibilities left. 2 are in Ark City, and both refused to participate in the project. Hence, I have to categorised them as difficult, and hence I need you to come with me to Ark City." 

"Lexa! Ark City! Are you insane?! No, no, no, no... You're  _not_ going to Ark City and neither am I." 

I had considered the possibility of Clarke declining the invitation. But Titus' legacy had been sufficient to purchase 2 tickets. 

"If necessary I will go alone. But I'm not confident I can handle the social aspect of collection by myself." 

Clarke shook her head. "This is fucking crazy! This can't be happening!" 

"You don't want to know who they are?" I said. "2 of the 3 men who may be your father?" 

"Go on." 

"Vincent Vie. Psychiatrist." 

I could see Clarke digging deep in her memory. 

"Maybe, Vincent. I think so. Maybe a friend of someone. Shit, it's so long ago. I can't remember." She paused, crinkling her nose. "And?" 

"Delano. Trauma Doctor." 

"No last name?" She asked. 

I shake my head. 

"Shit... Wait, Delano... Delano... Oh my god, my mom mentioned him once. He's gone to Ark City now? No way! You're saying that I've got one chance in 3 of being his daughter. And 2 chances in 3 of being jewish." 

"Assuming your mother told the truth." 

"My mother wouldn't have lied." 

"How old were you when she died?" 

"Very young... I know what you're thinking. But I know I'm right." 

It was obviously not possible to discuss this issue rationally. I moved to her other statement. 

"Is there a problem with being a jewish?" 

"Jewish is fine. Delano is fine. But if it's Delano it would explain why my mother kept mum. No pun intended. You've never heard of him?" 

I did not understand the pun. 

"Only through this project." 

"If you followed the news ages ago then you would have. He was banished from Polis. He's a vigilante who went against the government, conducting illegal transaction. He's a bad case, Lexa." 

"He's a vigilante?" 

"A vigilante and well-known jerk. What about the third person?" 

"Shawn Gillmer." 

"Oh my God," Clarke went white. "He died." 

"Correct." 

"Mum talked about him alot. She said he was in the army. He was in and out of the hospital because he was always sent to Mount Weather to control the chaos... I didn't know he died." 

It struck me now that we had been extremely careless in addressing the project. It had been on and off all this time, it wouldn't be this confusing and less informative issue. We could have worked through the candidates and have a thorough investigation.

"Do you know any more about him?" 

"No. Mom was really sad about what happened to him. She said he was a great guy. He saved lives in Mount Weather. She didn't tell me how he died. Shit! It makes total sense, doesn't it? Why she wouldn't tell me." 

It makes no sense to me. Perhaps, she was referring to Shawn Gillmer being stabbed to death by a psychiatric patient. I was on the brink of telling Clarke about this piece of information but I hold it in, seeing she's already in her vulnerable state. 

"He was from a simple family," Clarke said. "I think his father was also from the army and her mom was a doctor." 

The website had provided the information about his family background and where he grew up, but hardly why Clarke's mother hide her father's identity. His only distinguishing feature was that he was dead and was being stabbed to death. Perhaps both of this reasons were applicable. But surely Kane could have been given this information to pass on when Clarke was old enough to deal with it. 

While we were talking, Raven entered - with Luna! They waved to us then went to the second level of the cafeteria - the isolated zone as what the students called it. Incredible!

"Disgusting!" Clarke said. 

"She's researching engineering expertise from different countries." 

"Right. Was she even doing engineering?" Clarke did the eye roll again. Clarke might have a point. "I just pity Octavia." 

I told Clarke that Raven and Octavia have no attachment whatsoever. That Octavia have decided to move on from her unrequited love. Also with an additional information that I had gathered from Raven, that  _if_ Octavia and her got together, she would want to keep an open relationship. 

"Well lucky them!" Clarke said. "Are you planning to offer the same deal to the winner of the Wife Project?" 

"Of course," I said. 

"Of course," Clarke repeated. 

"If that was what she wanted," I added in the case Clarke had misinterpreted. 

"You think that's likely?" 

"If I find a partner, which seems increasingly  _unlikely,_ I wouldn't want a sexual relationship with anyone else. But I'm not good at understanding what other people want." 

"Tell me something I don't know," Clarke said for no obvious reason. 

I quickly searched my mind for an interesting fact.

"Aha! A deep-sea squid called  _Octopoteuthis deletron_  can have sex with both males and females – whichever comes along first." Having known what I've just said, I quickly try to redeem myself from the embarrassment. "Aaaaaahhh.... Female squid don’t have vaginas!" 

It was deeply annoying that the first thing that occurred to me was related to sex. And what's even more frustrating that even after trying to redeem myself from embarrassment, I talked about a sex organ. As a psychology student as Clarke, she may have concluded something in her head. But she simply looked at me and shook her head. Then she laughed loudly. 

"I can't afford to go to Ark City. But you're not safe by yourself." 

I don't know what she was talking about. But I'm a martial art black belter. 

"I'm not talking about martial arts, Lexa," Clarke suddenly said, as if she can read my mind. She must have seen the confusion on my face. She laughs again. "Just trust me on this. You're not safe alone." 


	9. Fly Me To The Sky Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is part 1 of their adventure to Ark City!   
> The part when Lexa was still stupidly oblivious about Clarke's intention while she still works hard to get the DNA samples.   
> (It's so obvious that oblivious is the main dish of Professor Alexandria.)
> 
> Enjoy! Dont forget to stay tune for the 2nd part!  
> Cheers!

There was a phone number listed for an R. Gillmer in  Arkadia Institute. The man who answered the phone told me that Dr. Gillmer, Sr. whose name was confusingly the same as Shawn Gillmer had died many years ago, leaving behind his widowed wife, Rebecca Gillmer. And that she had been admitted to the Arkadia Institute when she was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease for the past 2 years. This is great news!

I could have asked Clarke to go with me, but she had already agreed to the Ark City visit and I did not want to create an opportunity for a social error that might jeopardise the trip. I knew with my experience with Titus, it is easier to collect DNA sample from a person suffering with Alzheimer's disease. I hired a car and packed my DNA sample kit - swabs, cheek-scrapers, zip-lock bags and tweezers. I also took my previous university business card before I was promoted with my current position.  _Doctor_ Alexandria Woods receives superior service in medical facilities.

Arkadia is one thousand two hundred and seventy kilometers from Polis. I collected Raven's car at 4.07pm, right after my last lecture on Friday afternoon.

"Where are you going?" Raven asked.

I read on an article on a Psychology Magazine... Or was it a Teenage Magazine? I have to ask Raven about that. That when someone tries to get information out of you, act 'dumbly'.

I shrugged and immediately checked on the side mirrors  to ensure the safety hazard of the vehicle - I do not want another Clarke's Beetle Incident.

"What?" Raven shrugs, seemingly copying me with a bizarre expression. "What- Was that?" Shrugging again. "You're not telling me?"

"Yes." Good! Side mirrors still intact and there's two of them! Excellent.

"Okay, wait wait," Raven blocked the driver's seat and looks at me. "You're gonna borrow my car for 2 days and  _not_ tell me where the hell you're going?"

"Yes." I do not know why do I have to repeat my answer repetitively.

"Lexa, where. Are. You. Going?"

"I'm going on a project trip to Arkadia."

"Project trip? Arkadia?! Lexa, that's 15 hours drive and you're going alone? Are you out of your mind?!"

"No, Raven. I am perfectly normal. My mother got me tested."

"Ha-ha. Very funny," She was rolling her eyes again. I figured this was her habit now. Something I've learned from Clarke as well. "Stop quoting Sheldon Cooper!"

"I don't know who is that man. And I am telling you the truth. 8th Grade, mother brought me to Dr. Jackson's office and got me tested. She doesn't believe that her daughter is crazy and abnormal just like what our neighbours had said. And the result came positive. I am a genius."

Raven rolled her eyes again. "No,  _I am_ a genius and you, my friend is a weirdo."

I do not wish to spend my precious time standing around and repeating myself and stating the obvious facts when I could be on the road and on my way collecting my DNA sample.

"I have to go, Raven."

Raven stepped aside and I sat down on the driver's seat.

"Lexa, please be careful. Whatever you're trying to do that you don't wanna tell me just- just be careful. And  _please,_ return my baby unscathed."

I assumed she's referring to her red Honda Fit that needed repainting. She's a mechanic. An engineering professor and yet, she neglected her car. I believe Clarke's situation is more understandable - she's a barmaid who is a Phd Psychology Student. I have to include that last part for a good measure. 

Google had informed me that it will be, estimated, 15 hours drive - Raven's right. When I was a University student I had a mandatory regular drive to my parents house and found that the long journeys had the same effect to my market jogs. A study had shown that creativity is enhanced when performing straightforward mechanical tasks such as jogging, cooking and driving. Unobstructed thinking time is always useful for reflections. 

I took the Grounder Highway South and used the precise speed indicator on the internet route-planner, this would save me the trouble of not breaking the law. Alone in the car, I had the feeling that I had transformed my life into an adventure, which would climax in Ark City. 

I had decided not to play podcast on the journey in order to reduce cognitive load and encourage my conscious to reflect on my recent inputs. But after four hours of driving I found myself becoming bored. I started thinking of Clarke's playlist and how it brought me back like a time travel. So to avoid accidents of falling asleep and taking little notice of my surroundings due to the freeway's devoid of interest - I decided to purchase my first CD since the Eagle experiment. The small petrol station in the middle of the high way has a limited collection. I settled on The Proclaimers' - 500 Miles. With the repeat button on, it became the soundtrack to my driving and reflections over three days. 

Unlike other people, I am very comfortable with repetition. It was fortunate that I was driving alone. With the pumping beats of the songs, I attempted an objective analysis of the state of the Father Project. 

What did I know?

  1. I had tested forty over candidates. None of them were matched. There's a possibility that on my fake project the candidate had sent someone else's scraped cheeks. I still considered it unlikely. It would have been more easier to not participate at all - like the last  candidates.
  2. Clarke had identified candidates as being known to her Mother.
  3. The entire project is reliant on Clarke's mother's testimony that she had performed coitus at the graduation party. It was possible that she had lied because the biological father was someone less prestigious. This would explain the failure in identifying the real father. 
  4. Clarke's mother had chosen to remain with Kane. This was my first new thought. It supported the idea of being the biological father is less appealing, or perhaps unavailable for marriage. 
  5. Shawn Gillmer's death occured within the month of Clarke's birth and presumably the realisation that Kane was not the father. It might have taken time for Abigail to get the DNA test, by which time Shawn might have been dead and hence, unavailable for an alternative partner.



This was a useful reflection of the project. I had clearer perspective of the project status, I had added some insights and I was certain that the journey to Arkadia would justify the probability that Shawn Gillmer was Clarke's father. 

I decided to drive until I was tired - a radical decision as I would normally have scheduled on my resting phase and booking accommodations but I had been too busy to arrange this itineraries. Nonetheless, I took upon myself to stop every 3 hours to take a break and go back to the road to be able to maintain concentration. 

By 12. 30am, I detected tiredness and instead of sleeping, I decided to pull over to a petrol station, refuelled and bought 5 shots of espressos. I opened the sunroof and turned up the CD player volume to combat fatigue, and at 8.47am on a bright Saturday morning, with the caffeine still running all around my blood stream - pumping my brain awake, The Proclaimers and I pulled into Arkadia. 

I had set my map to bring to Arkadia Institute where I will introduce myself as a family friend. 

"She won't recognise you," the nurse said. This was the thought that I had prepared before taking on my journey, I had prepared other back stories as well just in case a problem arises. The nurse took me to a small dim lit white room and right in the center was a single bed and highly positive to be Mrs. Gillmer - fast asleep. 

"Shall I wake her up?" asked the nurse. 

"No, I'll just sit here for awhile." I said. 

"Alright then. Well buzz in if you need anything." 

I thought it will look strange if I just left immediately, so I took the seat by the bed and sat down for awhile. I would assume that Mrs. Gillmer is around 80, the same age when Titus entered the nursing home. Given by the story that Clarke gave me, it would be plausible that I am looking at her real grandmother.

As Mrs. Gillmer remained unmoved and silent, I thought about the Father Project. It was only possible with the high technological advances and Science. For all we know that secret would have died with Abigail many years ago. 

I strongly believe that it is the duty of Science and technology to discover as much as we can. But I am a History Professor not a psychologist nor a medical doctor. 

The woman in front of me was most certainly not a man of medical practitioner in his 50s, who had ran away from his parental responsibilities. She was completely clueless and hopeless. It would have been easy to just take the DNA and go. But something in me happened and I decided not to take the sample right there and then. 

Then Mrs. Gillmer woke up. She opened her eyes and looked directly into my eyes. 

"Where are they?" I do not know who she was specifically referring to? Was is Mr Gillmer her husband or Shawn Gillmer her son? There was a time that I would reply without thinking it through.

"They're dead," I said not in a malice but because I was wired to respond to the facts before other's feelings. But something changed in me, and I managed to suppress the statement. 

She must have realised that she doesn't know me. That I do not know who she was referring to, and she began crying. She was not making any noise. It was silent and sad and her tears continuously kept falling on her cheeks. Automatically, because I had experienced with Titus the same situation, I pulled out my handkerchief and wiped away the tears. She closed her eyes again. And fate had delivered me my sample. 

I was extremely exhausted, and by the time I walked out of Arkadia there were tears in my eyes from lack of sleep. It was a fairly warm day and the wind is picking up. I lay under a tree and instantly fell asleep. 

I woke up to see a blonde woman in a white coat kneeling beside me and for a frightening moment I was taken aback that a mad blonde with blue eyes followed me to Arkadia and give me a lecture for doing the Father Project on my own again. 

"Clarke?" 

"Clarke?" The blonde woman in white coat tilted her head. Then it became clearer. It's not Clarke Griffin. 

"I apologise," standing up and dusting my pants. "I thought you were someone I knew." 

For a moment, the blonde doctor laughed and I was back again on the balcony eating dinner with Clarke. I quickly checked my surroundings and remembered where I was, the blonde doctor was only checking if I was unwell or dying under a tree. It was 5 hours and 16 minutes since I left Mrs. Gillmer's room. 

The incident was a clear indication of the danger of over fatigue. So I decided that on my way home I will take my rests more seriously - 10 minutes rests every hour and a half. 

By 7.57pm, I pulled up at Dropship Motel, ate an overly cooked ribs and went to bed. The early night enabled a 5am start on a Sunday. 

The highway meandered to an exit to the city of TonDC, which I decided to take. I decided not to visit my parents despite it being the appointed Sunday dinner, I will have to cancel on them. 

"What do you mean you're not coming tonight? What the hell! You're  _not_ leaving me alone with mom and dad!" Anya said. 

"I'm sorry, Anya. I'm extremely tired and I have loads of work to do." This was true. I have to pack my bags for Ark City. 

"UGH! This is unbelievable. You know what's gonna happen whenever I'm alone with them. They'll grate me to pieces!" 

Love life was always the main topic during dinner. 

"Lie." I said, taking precautions with my surroundings while driving and talking to Anya on the speaker phone. 

Anya laughed. "Wow! Where did my honest and goody good girl sister disappeared to?" 

I hate it when she says that. "Fabricate only when it is necessary. White lies, Anya. If don't want to be grated then don't be a bait." 

Anya laughed again. "Seriously? Where's my stoned head sister went to? What did you do to her?" 

I am not wasting another precious time on this petty talks. "I have to go, Anya." 

"You owe me, Lexa! God... Maybe I should pretend that I died!" 

"White lies, Anya! Not giving our parents a heart attack." 

"Whatever. I'll think of something. By the way, who's that hot chic standing outside your  apartment the other day? I went and visit you but you weren't home." 

This conversation is taking longer than I expected.

"Who?" 

"This blonde chic. Blue eyes. Huge rack. It's  _so_ your type, little sis!" She laughed again. 

Ah, the blonde one with big tits. "Clarke Griffin." 

"Clarke huh. Didn't know you're dating someone," I despised the voice that Anya was playing now. "Tell me the 411! You're not going for dinner then might as well spill the beans now." 

"Phd Psychology student at Polis University. Ex candidate of the Wife Project - unsuitable. Raven and Octavia's childhood friend. Barmaid - but a Phd psychology student." 

I did not mentioned the Father Project, it is important to not let people know about the project that supposed to have ended but I voluntarily continued without Clarke's knowledge. 

"Woah! Jackpot! Wait-... Wife Project?!" 

Oh yes, I had not mentioned the Wife Project to Anya. 

"Yes. I am on a search for a suitable wife. Which I suggested that you should do the same so that mom and dad won't grate you to pieces." 

Anya laughed again. It took awhile for her to suddenly quieten down and then there's silence. ".... You're serious?" 

"Affirmative." 

I do not play around with my projects. I do not understand why people are surprised by this kind of projects. There are growing numbers of dating websites and phone applications and yet, they frown upon a black and white Wife Project - paper printed Applications and Questionnaires. 

"Oh! Well how did that went?" 

"Still searching. Raven had been a great assistance."

"Raven. Raven. Raven... Is this the engineering professor you work with?" 

"Correct." 

"Interesting... Maybe I'll pop by one day. Let's have dinner with your friends." 

Anya was not the sociable one. Between Anya and I, we're both none sociable - only small group of friends but comparing, Anya and I, Anya is the least none sociable person. The only people that she can tolerate were our parents and me - perhaps 1 or 2 friends from work. But this is new. 

"Why?" 

"Get to know your friends! I wanna see this Clarke Griffin chic. From my perspective, she _is_  your type." 

"No. She is not. She failed the qualification questionnaire." 

"Then what was she doing standing outside your door for 15 minutes? Did you guys had a fight or something?" 

That was an intriguing question. What was Clarke doing outside my apartment? And why wasn't I aware of it? 

"I don't know what you're talking about, Anya. I wasn't aware of Clarke's whereabouts." 

"Yeah, yeah. Always act the innocent one. Anyway! We got to catch up! Dinner with your friends, remember! Next week? Or the week after that? Ring me! Don't forget to invite Raven- Don't forget!" 

And before I could ask further. She hang up the phone. Typically. 

By the time I arrived at Polis it was on a Sunday evening and I returned the rented car to Raven and left the The Proclaimers CD in the player. 

"Welcome back, Commander! How's your trip?" 

"High productivity." I said, stepping inside their apartment and went straight for the fridge but not before asking, "May I?" 

"Knock yourself out." 

Raven rounded the dining table and when I turned around she was staring at me. I looked back at her while drinking a glass of water. 

"Can I help you, Raven?" 

"So Clarke was telling me that the two of your are going to Ark City tomorrow." 

"Correct." 

"Why am I hearing this from Clarke and not from you?" 

"I was away." The truth.

Raven rolled her eyes. She leaned forward on the island and looks directly into my eyes. "What are you doing, Lexa? Why are you bringing Clarke to Ark City?" 

I had not mentioned my ongoing process of the Father Project and it is a sensitive topic with Clarke that I do not wish to upset her by spreading the existence of the project. 

"I had spare money from Titus' will and I am spending it irrationally." 

"Yes. I get that but why with Clarke? I already told you you're only going to get hurt. You're going to only hurt Clarke." 

"Why would I hurt Clarke?" Was it because the father candidates in Ark City were not Clarke's possible biological father? But how would Raven know that, they weren't tested yet nor does she knows the progress of the Father's Project? 

"Lexa, don't you see what you're doing to Clarke? You're only giving her high hopes and then hurt her." 

"I doing the best I can to get all the samples, Raven. You have idea how much time I've spent analysing this matter when I could be doing far more better things." My exhausted head were pounding hard and my heart were beating rapidly. I suddenly felt the huge rush of anger. 

"Can't you see she's hurting? Every second she's with you, its breaking her! Why can't you see that?" Raven's voice was getting louder. 

"I am doing the best I can, Raven! This project means a lot to Clarke and I can't let it go just like that - without trying all the possibilities out there." 

"What project? What are you talking about?" 

"The Father Project." 

"The Father Project?!" It was clear that Raven was taken aback. "Is that what you're talking about?" 

"Isn't that what  _we're_ talking about?" 

"No! I was talking about Clarke liki-...FIIISSHHH!!!!!" Raven came hopping on one leg with the  _animal_ wagging its tail and staring up at her barking. "Octavia! Fish peed on my leg again! God... I swear if you weren't cute I would have dump you in the streets!" 

And yet again, I was left alone to my own device with the  _animal_ staring at me. Another night with an unfinished conversation with a dog tailing me around until Octavia sedate it so I can leave in one piece. 

////

I met Clarke at the airport. She remained uncomfortable about me purchasing her ticket, so I told her she could pay me back by selecting some Wife Project applicants for me to date.

"Fuck you," she said.

It seemed we were friends again. 

I could not believe how much luggage Clarke brought with her. She had exceeded the carry on limit and fortunately enough, I managed to place some of her clothes into my carry on. I travel lightly for convenience - always along with my ultra-light laptop. However, the annoying part was the bulky parting gifts from Raven and Octavia. I had only been allowed a week leave and even though Jaha was already making it difficult. It is obvious that he is looking for something to get rid of me. 

Clarke had never been to Ark City but was familiar with the airport procedure and was deeply impressed by the VIP treatment that I was getting. We approached the counter with no queue and we're lounging at the exclusive lounge with a glass of Champagne. I explained that I had earned a special privileges by being particularly vigilant and observant of rules and procedures on previous flights, and by making a substantial number of helpful suggestions regarding check-in procedures, officer/flight attendant/pilot trainings, flight schedules and security system.

"In other word, complain." Clarke said. 

Unbelievable, how can Raven, Octavia and Clarke said that I was complaining? I wasn't a complaining. It's a useful precautionary measure to make the airport efficient and effective. I got a written letter from the CEO of Polis airport and privileges to have 'enough for a lifetime flying'! 

Clarke shakes her head. "Here's to being special." She raised her glass and clicked with mine. "So what's the plan?" 

Organisation is the optimum goal when travelling and I had everything figured out on an hour by hour basis. With each critical tasks divided and categorised on its importance. This incorporated with Clarke's initial set of meeting appointments with the Vincent Vie and Delano. Astonishingly, besides from this appointments she had not planned anything at all besides from meeting me at the airport. At least the good thing is, there is no incompatible activity to reconcile.

I opened my laptop and outlined to Clarke our daily tasks. I had not completed my full agenda when Clarke interrupted. 

"Fast forward, Lexa. What are we doing in Ark City? Besides from having dinner with Vincent Vie on Thursday and Sunday brunch with Delano. We have 4 days in Ark City to go around."

If she put it that way. "Monday. Touch down at 10pm. We walk to exit B, take the cab and check in to the hotel-..." 

"Fast forward!" 

"Tuesday. Go to the Hom Subway station and alight at Sub  station and visit the Ark Museum of History-..." 

"Stop! Wait! Don't tell me that all those 4 days you're gonna spend looking at Museums?" 

"Correct." 

"Nope! No, no!" She was doing a hand gesture with her index finger, moving from side to side. "How many times have you been to Ark City?" 

"This is my fifth." 

"And I'm assuming this is not your first time going to the museum. Correct?" 

"Correct." 

"What did you think I would do while you go around looking at museums?" Clarke asked. 

"I hadn't considered it. I presume you have your own set of activities to follow while we're in Ark City." 

"Well, my friend, you assumed wrong." Said Clarke. " _We're_ going to see Ark City. Tuesday and Wednesday I'm in charge. And Friday and Saturday you're in charge. You want two days in the museum, I'll spend two days in the museum. But if it's  _my turn, I'm_ gonna be your tour guide." 

"But you don't know Ark City." 

"Neither do you," Clarke took my champagne glass and got it refilled. While I open my calendar and reschedule my museum visits. 

By the time Clarke came back, she invaded my space and closed down my laptop. Unbelievable! If I had done that to my student I would have hear it from the Dean - Jaha wouldn't be pleased. In the university hierarchy, I am a researcher/professor and Clarke is a PhD student. I was entitled to some respect!

"Talk to me," She said. "We don't have time to talk about anything else besides from DNAs and candidates. Now we've got a week and I want to know more about you" She was nudging my arm on my arm rest and I slid my arm down to my lap. "If you were going to be the woman who's going to tell me who my real father is, you should know who I am." 

In less than 15 minutes, my entire schedule had been jeopardised, torn apart and pushed to the least priority. Clarke had taken over. 

A host from the lounge ushered us to our plane that's gonna bring us to Ark City for the next 17 and a half hours. As a result for my special status, Clarke and I had two seats in a between us. As I am only placed beside a passenger when the flight is full.

"Start with your childhood," Clarke encouraged.

All I needed was for her to turn on the overhead light for the scenario of interrogation to be complete. I was a prisoner with handcuffs on my back, so I bartered and make an escape plan.

"We have to get some sleep. It's evening in Ark City." 

"It's 5am in the morning. Who goes to sleep 5am in the morning? Anyway, I'm too buzzed I won't be able to sleep." 

"I've brought sleeping pills." 

Clarke was amazed that I would use sleeping pills. She thought I would have some objections to chemicals. She was right about not knowing much about me. 

We agreed that I would summarise my childhood experiences, which, given her background in psychology, she would doubtlessly consider hugely significant, until breakfast arrives, take the sleeping pills and sleep. 

On the pretext of visiting the bathroom, I quickly asked the cabin manager to bring our breakfast as quickly as possible. 


	10. Fly Me To The Sky Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the Ark City adventure continues! Experience the wild roller coaster ride of the most infuriating couples (not so couple) ever!
> 
> Enjoy!

Telling Clarke my life story was not difficult - Or a hard chore - as Raven would put it. Every psychologist and psychiatrist I have seen has asked for a summary, so I have the essential facts clear in my mind. It's always there where I could easily reach and press play and my mouth would automatically do the talking without thinking too much about it.

My father owns a blacksmith in my old home town. He lives there with my mother and my younger brother - Aden. He's only 12 years old and he already hates me. I don't talk about him too much because I left home since he was still young - and still managed to hate me because he thinks that I will steal our father's blacksmith business. I have no intention to do so, he would probably inherit it when my father retires or dies. My older sister Anya lives in the same town as me, we would go for dinner and get visited on a timely manner or randomly - her timing can be unpredictable. When she left home without telling my parents - to work for someone - they went berserk. My dad scoured towns after towns, my mom did not get out of bed for weeks. I was very sad. She was my only sister. I was angry too.

Until a month later after the police and investigators had gathered enough evidence where my sister might be - we received a call. It was Anya and she said stop searching for her. That she's safe and working, and that she'll come to visit soon. I knew my father was relieved. He doesn't show much affection, same as I do. Hence, I have an effective relationship with him but not emotional relationship. This is a satisfactory for the both of us. My mother is very caring but I find her very stifling. My brother is affectionate to my mother and tough exterior with my father. Two sides of the same coin. I could believe that he's versatile and can maneuvers his way around. Which is highly satisfactory - given that my parents are getting old and eventually he'll be inheriting the blacksmith - which may well be the metaphor of my father's affection. If so, my Brother won, but I am not unhappy of not winning. I do not see my family very often. My Mother calls me on Sundays. 

I had an uneventful time at school. I enjoyed history and science. I did not have many friends in school and was briefly the object of bullying. Until I learned martial arts and posed as a threat to the big bullies.  I was the TOP student in the school in all subjects and I was even briefly called 'Alexandria the Great' - although I am very sure that doesn't pose as a good thing as the history books had said. Jessica carved my 'title' on the huge oak tree with my supposedly stick man figure with my hair high up in the air all zigzag lines. That oak tree is the condemnation of my high school year. 

At the end of my schooling I left home to attend University. I originally had attended genetics but on my 21st birthday I made a decision to change to History. This must be my sub-conscious desire to submerge myself on my ancestral roots. It was a logical choice because this world needs to know where we came from. Although it is a good combination to have genetics and history together but who knows many people were against it. I still chose history because this is where I think people are lacking of or more rather ignoring. Especially the younger generations. Despite genetics is a burgeoning field, history is still on my TOP list of potential careers that I wrote down when I was 13 years old. 

1\. History. So that Mike will know that we're from the grounders and not from people who falls from the sky.

2\. ~~Scientist on genes so that Becca would know her Father~~. Genetics.(There is no family history of mental illness.) 

3\. Army. I like martial arts. Sensei Ricca is really good at it. 

4\. Teacher. So I can teach this morons math. 

I realised my fascination about the Father project might have started the very moment that Becca cried during lunch and told me that she doesn't know her Father and her Mother won't speak of him. And now I am fulfilling it with Clarke - well that's a thought. 

I turned towards Clarke and smiled. I had already told her about my Brother, my Sister and the bullying. The statement about mental illness was correct - and I am referring to my family. Unless, I included myself in the definition of 'family'. Somewhere in a medical archive is a twenty-year-old file with my name and the words 'depression, bipolar disorder? OCD?' And 'schizophrenia?' The question marks are very critical - beyond the obvious observation that I was depressed, no definitive diagnosis was ever made, despite attempts by the psychiatric professionals to fit me into a simplistic category. I now believed that virtually all my problems could be attributed to my brain that functions differently to normal human beings. All of my psychiatrists have diagnosed this and not because of the underlying disease. Of course I was depressed; I lacked of friends, sex and a social life, due to being incompatible with other people. I know that the intensity of my reactions can be called as 'mania' or 'crazy' or how Octavia and Raven puts it a 'whack job' or a 'basket case.'  And my concern over the Organization was labelled as obsessive-compulsive disorder. 

"What happened on your 21st birthday?" Clarke asked.

Had Clarke read my thoughts? What happened on my 21st birthday was that I decided that I needed to take a new direction in my life, because any changes would be better than staying in the burning pyre of depression. I actually visualised it a burning pyre - ever burning. 

I told Clarke the truth. I don't celebrate birthdays, but my family had insisted in this case and had invited numerous friends and relatives to compensate for my own lack of friends. 

My uncle made a speech. I understood that it's a tradition to make fun of the birthday celebrant by detailing every embarrassing moments but I did not know that my uncle knew some extremely personal facts, and realised that my mother must have shared them with him. She was pulling his arm, trying to get him to stop, but he ignored her and did not stopped until she was crying from laughter and so was everyone else - after detailing every single moment that had cause me pain, hurt and embarrassment. The core problem, as it seemed, was that I was a stereotypical computer geek. So I decided to change. 

"To a history geek," Clarke said. Emitting that side-grin. 

"That wasn't exactly the goal." But it was obviously the outcome. And I managed to extinguished the fire from the pyre and got out to work hard in a new discipline. 

Where was the breakfast?

"Tell me more about your father." Clarke said, leaning over a little. She placed her elbow on the arm rest and rested her chin over her fist. She was watching me. 

"Why?" I wasn't exactly interested in why. I was doing the social equivalent as to 'over' to put the responsibility back on Clarke. It was a trick I've learned from Octavia when dealing with difficult situation or personal questions. I recalled her advice not to over use it. But this was the first occasion. 

"I guess I wanted to know if your dad is the reason why you're fucked up." 

"I'm not fucked up." 

"Okay, not fucked up. Sorry, I didn't mean to be judgemental. But you're not exactly...  _normal_ , " Clarke said in a slow motion as if I couldn't catch up. 

"Agree. Does your definition of 'fucked up' is 'not exactly...  _normal"?"_ I said, mimicking her previous reaction. 

"Bad choice of words. Erase that. Start again." Clarke inhaled deeply and blew out of her mouth. Did she put lip gloss? I didn't noticed. "I guess I'm asking because my dad's the reason why  _I'm_ fucked up." 

An extraordinary statement. Very on point indeed. With the exception of her careless attitude to health, Clarke had never exhibited any sign of brain malfunction. 

"What are the symptoms of being fucked up?" I asked.

"I've got shit in my life that I don't wish to have. And I'm terrible at dealing with it... Am I making sense?"  

"Of course," I said. "It is inevitable. Uneventful events happened in your life and you're lacked of skills of how to minimise it's impact in your life. I thought you were talking about problems with your personality that you wanted to rectify." 

"No I'm okay with being me." 

"So is that the nature that caused by Kane?" 

Clarke did not have an instant reply to this critical question. Perhaps this is one of the symptoms of being fucked up. 

Finally she spoke, standing up even, "Jesus, what's taking them so long with breakfast?" 

/////

Clarke went to the bathroom, and I took the opportunity to unwrap Raven and Octavia's parting presents. I had no choice but to accept the presents because they sent me to the airport and Raven stuffed it inside my hand carry and threatened me that she will stop recording the mini series of squids documentary on Discovery Channel. I have been waiting patiently for 3 weeks and I can't jeopardized that. 

It was fortunate that Clarke was not around when I unwrapped Raven's present. It's a new book of sexual positions and she had a post-it note on the top of it: ' _In case you ran out of ideas. Hatch those eggs!'_ I completely disagree with the last statement. There is no way that I could hatch the eggs physically nor virtually - scientifically speaking. Octavia's present was less embarrassing, but irrelevant for the trip - it's an outfit - a woollen sweater and jeans. Clothes are always useful but I had already packed spare shirts, and did not see a need for additional trousers in only eight days. 

Raven had again, misunderstood the nature of my relationship with Clarke but it's understandable. I did not specifically mentioned the main purpose of bringing Clarke to Ark City and Raven had made an assumption with the basis of her own view. On the way to the airport, I had seek advice from Octavia - the practical one - of how to deal with so much time in the company of one person. 

"Lexa, remember to listen," Octavia said. "Look in her eyes. It will show that you're paying attention. If she asked you awkward questions, asked her why she's asking. Return the question back to her. She's a psychology student, they love talking about themselves. Pay attention on their emotions as well as logic. Be water, Lexa. Just go with the flow." 

In fact, Clarke spent most of her the remainder of the flight either sleeping or watching films, but confirmed - twice - that I had not offended her and she just needed time out. 

I did not complain. 

/////

We survived the TonDC Immigration. Previous experience had taught me not to ask questions or give an effective and efficient suggestions through observations, and I need not need to produce my letter of recommendation from the CEO of the University that I am in fact a sane and competent person. 

Clarke was extremely nervous, and that goes by saying from someone who's had a bad rating on judging other people's emotions. And I was worried that it might cause people to doubt and cause suspicion and that we would be refused entry  _for no justifiable reason,_ as had happened to me on several previous occasions. 

The official asked, "What do you do?" 

"History researcher. Part-time lecturer," I said. 

He said, "Best in the world?" 

And I said, "Yes." 

He laughed. And we were through. 

Clarke almost ran towards the Customs and then to the exit. I was several steps behind, carrying both of our bags. Something was obviously wrong. 

I caught up with her outside the automatic doors. She reached for her handbag and starts digging. 

"Stick," she said. She lit a cigarette and took a long drag. "Just- Just don't say anything, okay? If I ever needed a reason to give up, I've got one now. Hours! God... Fuck." 

It was fortunate that Clarke had told me not to say anything. I remained silent but shocked by the impact of the addiction on her life.

She finished her cigarette and we headed to the bar. It's 9am in Ark City but we could still be in  Polis time zone. Okay, maybe Clarke time zone. 

"What was the deal with the 'best' historian in the bloody world?" Clarke asked, taking a swig from her cold beer. 

I explained to her that I had a special O-I Visa for Aliens of Extraordinary Ability. I had needed a visa after the occasion when I was refused entry and this was deemed the safest choice. O-I visas are very rare and 'yes' was the correct answer to any questions about the extraordinariness of my abilities. Clarke found the world 'alien' amusing. Correction, 'hilarious'. She demonstrated it with her hands banging on the bar counter, laughing. At one point I thought she was crying but she waved me off and continued laughing. 

"God... Lexa. You're gonna be the death of me," she said. 

I surely hope that I won't be the death of her. It's very dangerous to play around with life. And I most certainly will not cause her her death. I don't think I could live with myself with that guilt. 

"Please don't die," I said. 

Clarke laughed again. And this time I do not understand why. I asked her what's funny but she waved me off again and continued drinking her beer and I continued drinking my iced tea. 

Since we did not have bags checked, and the immigration process had proceeded smoothly. I was able to get my best option and caught the earlier flight to Ark City. 

At Ark Airport, I steered Clarke towards the public train, "we have two subway options." 

"I supposed you've memorised the timetable," Clarke said. 

"Not worth the effort. I just know the train lines and stations we need for our journeys," I love Ark City. The layout is very organised and highly logical. I do not understand how can people still get lost in Art City. 

When Clarke telephoned Vincent Vie's wife she was very positive and accommodating about the contact from Polis and news from the reunion. On the subway, Clarke said, "you'll need an alias. She'll probably recognised your name from the survey you sent." 

I had already reconsidered this. "Austin," I said, " _Austin Powers._ International Man of Mystery." Clarke thought it was hilarious. She was laughing again and I was brought back again on the balcony incident. I had made a successful, deliberate joke. 

"Lexa! I'm serious! That's a guy's name. Pick another one," Clarke said. 

I do not know any other names. I only know that name because Raven and Octavia forced me to watch the entire series of Austin Powers movies. They said it was timeless and the best International man of mystery. Which I think the best fitting for the situation. 

"Bond?" I said. 

"Oh God....," Clarke closed her eyes and pursed her lips. Is that how she made her lips moist all the time? "Please don't tell me. Bond...  _James Bond!"_

I nodded. 

Clarke laughed again and this time she hit me on the lap. "Okay, okay. Cut the crap now, Lexa. We're almost there. Come on. Be serious." 

I ran out of ideas. I do not have a quirk thinking and  I think through basis of the persons personality. Which I think the two personalities are best candidates. 

"Heda," Clarke said. 

"Heda?" I remember that word. The most ancient word called for Commanders of the tribes. Aden had used that word as well. 

"Yes. It's perfect! You're Hedaaaa...," She was tapping her chin. I realised her chin had a slight slit in the middle - like a butt chin - as Octavia would like to put it. 

"What?" I asked. I realised I zoned out. 

"Heda Kom Trikru," Clarke flashed a grin. I didn't realised she had a small dimple. 

"Clarke, that literally translates to Commander from the Tree Tribe. That's trigedaslang. How would you know that they couldn't understand it." 

Clarke rolled her eyes. A habit. "Fine! Although it does sounds so bad ass! Christina Spears. There you go. All settled!" 

"Did you just combined Christina Aguilera and Britney Spears names?"

Clarke waggled her eyebrows at me. I do not know what does that mean. Does that mean yes? Because it seems like the most obvious answer. 

"Profession?" Clarke continues. 

"Blacksmith owner," The idea appeared in my brain spontaneously. 

"Okaaaayy...," Clarke said. "This is quickly turning into the dark side faster than I thought." 

We took the Green line to Sky Station and headed uptown. 

"Where's the hotel?" Clarke asked as I directed us towards the Dropship Street. 

"Few blocks away. But we have to shop first." I said. 

"Fuck, Lexa. It's after 5.30pm. I drank a bottle of beer and we're due at the Vie's at 7.30pm. We don't have time for shopping! I need time to change." 

I looked at Clarke. She was wearing a jeans and a white tank top with 'Kiss Queen' on it and a black leather jacket over it - conventional attire. I could not see the problem, but we had time. "I hadn't planned to go to the hotel before dinner, but since we arrived early-..." 

"Lexa, I've been flying for 24 hours. We are doing nothing more with your schedule until I've checked in for craziness!" 

"I've scheduled four point five minutes for transaction," I said. Entailing her the scheduled agenda. We were already outside The Dropship - the most popular retail store that I found online that offers all kinds of whistles for soccer. I am very sure that I will find something for Octavia there. 

I walked in and Clarke followed. 

The shop was empty except for us. Perfect. 

"Lexa, you're not exactly dressed for this." Clarke said. 

Dressed for shopping?! I was dressed for travelling, eating, socialising, museum hopping -  _and shopping._ Running shoes (highly efficient with fast pace walking), cargo pants (with incredible room space with maximum movement), white t-shirt (very simple and yet, highly on demand) and a knitted scarf that my mother hand-made. 

This is not The Mansion or the impeccable City of Light that Raven always visits just to show off that she can be posh and pick up girls but then leave without buying anything but rather leave with a girl tucked under her arm. 

It seemed highly unlikely that they would refuse to participate in a commercial exchange on the basis of my costume. I was right. 

Two men stood behind the counter wearing very formal attire, one (age approximately 34, BMI 19) with an interesting serpent curled around his index finger and the other (age approximately 27, BMI 18.5) wearing huge square eye glasses creating an impression of-...

"Is he superman? Cause hot damn! Fly me away from here!" Clarke suddenly said on my ears. I could feel her breathing on me. I suddenly felt warm all over. I removed the scarf and walked over to the counter. I initiated the transaction. 

"I require a high-quality whistle," I said. 

The serpent ring man smiled, "I can help you with that. It's for your boyfriend?" 

"No. For Octavia," I realised that this was not a helpful information but not sure how to elaborate. I tried. "She's on a soccer team." I wasn't sure if Octavia is  _in_ the team or was she really just running some errands for the team. 

"And Octavia is..." he made a circular motion with his hand "what age?" 

There's an age range for a soccer whistle? I should have searched for more information. But too late now. 

"Ah. 30-..." Clarke covered my mouth with her hand and shushed me on my ear again. Am I burning up again? I must not be getting used to travelling again after for a long time. 

"O doesn't like her age to be revealed!" Clarke said. Thankfully, she removed her hand away from me. I don't like it touching me. 

"Aahh I see. One of  _those_ kinds," the man with the serpent ring winked at Clarke. 

I do not understand what category that Octavia falls to to be considered as  _'those'_ kinds but I'm guessing it's a bad thing? Or maybe not.

"And what about you, babe? Are you one of  _those_ people?" The man with the glasses asked Clarke, winking at her. I figured this behaviour is very common with this two men. How do they sell items in this very expensive sports shop when their employees are suffering from eye infection!

Clarke grins, "Well that depends..." She leaned over the glass counter - blocking my view of all the whistles. I flared my nostrils and saw Clarke glancing at me before looking back at the man with the glasses. "What's your name?" 

I do not see the purpose of that question. His name tag is right there pinned on his left pocket. But Clarke still continues to leaned over the counter and I am getting irritated - I don't have time for this. 

Clarke looks back at me and when I look at her, she quickly looks away and leaned further on the counter, seemingly pulling down on her shirt. 

"Drew. And yours?" 

"Clarke Griffin." 

"Griffin huh. Powerful and majestic creatures." 

"Indeed we are," And now Clarke's eye seemed to be affected too! I can't stay here much longer. I think this eye infection is airborne. 

"Clarke," I said. 

Clarke looks at me with her eyebrows up. "Yes, Lexa?" 

"You're blocking my view," I said. 

"Ooopps...," Clarke slid to the left and Drew followed her. I looked at them talking and laughing. I felt my cheeks warming up again. *Sighs* I need to rest up soon. I'm not feeling too well again. 

John Mbege took out a whole board of whistles and found this stainless silver with the engraving of the brand's name. 

"What do you think of this?" He said. "Our top seller." 

It was remarkably light - and slippery to the hands. I tried it on my lips if the size is just perfect when I saw Drew grabbing Clarke's hand. 

**_PPPPUURRRR!_ **

I quickly let go of the whistle - startling myself. Drew jumpily let go of Clarke's hand and both heads turn to me in shock. Now my whole face feels incredibly warm. I need some air. I put down the whistle and felt my throat needs to be cleared. So I did. "Excellent. How much?" We were running out of the schedule. 

"Eleven hundred dollars." 

I opened my wallet and extracted my credit card. 

"Whoa whoa  _whoa,"_ said Clarke. "I think we'd like to see what else you have before we rush into anything." 

I turned to Clarke. "Our four point five minutes is up, Clarke." 

John placed another array of whistles with different colours and designs. Clarke looked at one. I copied her, looking at another. It seemed nice. They all seemed nice. I had no framework of discrimination. 

It continued for the next 15 minutes. John kept throwing more whistles on the counter - more than I thought there could be - and Clarke and I looked at them. Superman-man came to help and offered a whistle. "Would you like to blow my whistle?" He asked. 

Clarke laughed. I do not find it hilarious. But Clarke did and she is blowing his whistle. She gave it a couple of blow and the sound echoes inside the empty shop. I finally identified one that I could comment intelligently on. 

"That whistle has a fault!" Superman-man, Clarke and John looks at me. "It's not symmetrical. Symmetry is a key component of human beauty!" 

"Human beauty? Lexa, we're talking about Octavia here," Clarke chuckles. I felt stupid for some unknown reason. "It's sports." 

I swallowed hard and turns away, looking at other whistles. I heard Clarke cleared her throat. 

"Maybe this whistle's lack of symmetry will  highlight Octavia's symmetry." 

I've never thought of that. It was brilliant! I looked up at her and she was smiling at me. 

Serpent ring man took another pile of whistles and produced this white whistle with a criss-cross design. Even I could see Octavia would not approve and dropped it immediately on the reject pile. 

"What's wrong with it?" Clarke asked. 

"I don't know. It's unsuitable." 

"Come on," she said. "you can do better than that. Imagine who might wear it." 

Clarke was smiling. Superman-man and Serpent ring man's eyes were all on me. I felt pressured. 

"Nygel!" The serpent ring man said. 

"Nygel the comedian?" Clarke asked. Ring man nodded. And everyone laughed. 

I was not familiar with this name nor any of the comedians name but the answer suddenly came to me. "The Dean! Thelonious Jaha!" 

Clarke laughed even louder. I felt a sense of achievement. "Coorrrreectt!" She picked up the whistle and instantly transformed into The Dean. "PPUUUURRR!!! That's a red card, Woods! 2 more strikes and you're out!" 

I do not know if the strikes  have any relation to soccer, I am not as knowledgable as Octavia at this sports. 

"What about this one?" Clarke picked up a wooden design whistle. 

"Lincoln!" I automatically answered. Then I explained to them that during one team building event in the woods, Lincoln made a small carved statue with his pocket knife and it was really good. 

"This one?" She picked up a whistle with a many different spots of colours and I knew. 

"Raven," we caught each other's eyes and smile. 

Clarke cleared her throat, "See? You know more about whistles than you think you do." 

I knew that whistle is perfect for Raven. Different spots indicates different nationalities from different parts of the world. 

"We call it, hot spots," Serpent ring man said. 

"Hot spots," Clarke and I repeated coincidentally, catching each other's eyes again. Clarke smiles and put down the whistle. 

I looked at the pile of reject whistles and realised it was happening so quickly that I was reminded of the Great Cocktail Night, except that we were the customers. I wondered if the gentlemen were enjoying their work as much as I had. 

In the end I left the choice to Clarke. She chose the first whistle that they had shown us. 

As we walked out of the store, Clarke said, "I think I've just wasted an hour of your life." 

"No, no, the outcome was irrelevant," I said. "It was so entertaining." 

"Well," said Clarke, "any time you need entertaining. I could use a pair of Vera Sydney." From Clarke's usage of the word 'pair' I'm assuming she's referring to a pair of shoes. 

"Do we have time?" We had already used up the time that Clarke intended for the hotel visit. 

"I'm kidding, Lexa. Kidding." I looked down at her hand that was holding my forearm. She quickly let go. 

It was fortunate, as we had to move quickly to arrive at the Vie's on schedule. But Clarke needed to change. There was bathroom at the subway station and Clarke rushed in and reappeared looking amazingly different. 

"That was incredible," I said. "So quick." 

Clarke looked at me from top to bottom. "You're going like that?" Her tone suggested dissatisfaction. 

"These are my clothes," I said. "I have a spare shirt." 

"Show me." 

I reached into my bag to get the alternative shirt, which I doubt Clarke would prefer until I remembered Octavia's gift. I pulled out the sweater instead and showed it to her. 

"It was a gift from Octavia," I said. "I've got jeans as well, if that helps." 

"Oh god bless Octavia!," Clarke said. "She earned the holy grail whistle." 

"We'll be late." 

"Politely late is fine." 

//////

Vincent and Anna Vie's apartment is in the Embler Avenue. My Ark City cell-phone card was working as accordingly and navigated the GPS to the location. I hoped that Clarke's definition of 'Politely late' is 54 minutes late. 

"Christina Spears, remember," Clarke said as she rang the bell. 

Anna answer the door. I estimated her age as 50, BMI 26. She spoke with a thick foreign language and was concerned that we might have become lost. Her husband Vincent was a Psychiatrist; mid 50s, bald, clear shaven, BMI 20. He was not as friendly as his wife. 

They offered us a home-made cocktail - Margarita and I remembered the effect this drink had had on me during the preparations for the reunion and resolved that I would have no more than two.  Anna had made some chicken casserole and asked for details of our trip. She wanted to know if we had been to Ark City before, what were our plans - to do shopping and see the museums. Clarke easily handles all these questions.

"Vincent is off to Mounth Weather tomorrow morning," Anna said, nudging her husband by the elbow. "Tell them what you're gonna do there, honey."

"Just a conference," said Vincent. He and I do not need to do a great deal of talking to ensure the conversation continues - Anna and Clarke completes the circuit.

He did ask me one thing before we moved to the dining room. "What do you do, Christina?"

"Christina runs a blacksmith, Vincent," Clarke answered. "A very successful one too."

Anna served a delicious dinner and Clarke was vocally full. I had eaten very little of the aeroplane food and enjoyed Anna's dinner immensely! Vincent opened a bottle red wine and generously filled our glasses. 

"Oh I'm glad you could come and visit," Anna said. "Too bad Vincent can't make it for the reunion. He was so sorry for not being there." 

"Not really," Vincent grumbled behind his wine glass. "Revisiting the past is not an enjoyable thing to do." He picked on the blueberry muffins that Anna baked and looked at Clarke. "You looked exactly like your mother. She looked a little younger than you when I last saw her." 

"We got married the day after the graduation and moved here. Vincent had the biggest hangover at the wedding. He's been a bad boy," She laughed. 

"I think that's enough telling tales, Anna," He said. "That was a long time ago." 

He stared at Clarke. Clarke stared at him. 

Anna picked up Clarke's plate and mine, one in each hand. I decided that this is the perfect time to make an action. I stood and picked up Vincent's plate in one hand and Anna's. Vincent was too busy playing staring game with Clarke to even noticed that we're out of the dining area and into the kitchen - where I swabbed Vincent's fork. 

"I imagine Christina and Clarke are exhausted," said Anna when she returned to the table. 

"You said you're a blacksmith, Christina? Did you learned it from your father?" Vincent stood up from his seat.

"Yes, sir. Inherited from my father," I replied. 

"Then can you spare me five minutes to look at my silver collections? I've been wanting to show off my swords collection to someone who finally knew a little something," Vincent smiles and gestures at a door. 

"Oh dear Lord, Vincent! Not again with your collections! I'm really sorry, Christina. He's just really fascinated with swords," Anna shakes her head. 

I nodded at her and followed Vincent down the stairs. I am confident that I could strike a conversation with Vincent about blacksmith and swords after years of learning experience from my father. But as we reached the bottom of the stairs, the lights went out. I wasn't sure what had happened. A power failure?

"You okay, Lexa?" Said Vincent, sounding concerned. 

"I'm okay," I said. "What happened? Are the electricity out?" 

"Nope. The electricity is perfectly fine. What happened was that you just answered to Lexa,  _Christina."_

We stood there in the dark. I doubted that there were social conventions for dealing with interrogation by a psychiatrist in a dark cold basement. 

"How did you know?" I asked. 

"Two unsolicited communications from the same university in a month. An internet search. You make a good dancing partner, Lexa." 

More silence and darkness. 

"I know the answer to your question. But I sworn to my grave that I will not reveal it. If I thought it was a matter of life or death, or a serious mental health issue, I would reconsider. But I see no reason to break the promise, which the people involved had taken into a serious consideration of what is right. You came a long way for my DNA, Professor Woods, and I am guessing you've already gotten what you needed when you cleared my plate. You might want to think about your girlfriend's wishes before you proceed."

He turned on the light. And my eyes blinked, slowly adjusting to the light.

Something bothered me as we walked up the stairs. At the top of the stairs, I stopped. "If you knew what I wanted, why did you let us come to your house?"

"Good question," he said. "Since you asked the question, I'm sure you can work out the answer. I wanted to see Clarke."


	11. Fly Me To The Sky Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so it still continues. What lies ahead for Prof. Lexa and Clarke? Are they coming closer? Interesting turn of events to catch on. You'll be SO thrilled!
> 
> Enjoy!  
> Cheers!

Sleeping pills, they're the wonders of this world. Thanks to their timely use, I woke up without any feeling of disorientation, at 7.16am.

Clarke had fallen asleep in the train on the way to the hotel. I had decided not to wake her up from my shoulder, even though, it was  getting numb. I do not want to risk immediately telling her about the basement encounter, nor mention what I had observed on the sideboard. It was Anna and Vincent's wedding. Standing beside Vincent, was Shawn Gillmer, who had only limited time to live. He was smiling.

I was still reflecting the implications myself, and Clarke would probably have an emotional response that could spoil the Ark City experience. She was impressed that I had an unobtrusive reaction when I picked up the dishes to assist.

"You're in danger of learning some social skills," Clarke said.

I do not understand what she meant by that when the only reason why I picked up the plates to assist Anna was to swab Vincent's cutleries.

"Okay," I said.

Clarke seemed to found something funny out of that context - which I still find confusing.

The hotel was perfectly comfortable. After we checked in, Clarke said she was worried that I would expect her to share a room in exchange for paying for her trip to Ark City. Like a prostitute! I was highly insulted. She seemed pleased by my reaction.

"I'm sorry! It's just-... You know, guys and expectations. So I thought...," Clarke did not finished her sentence and shrugs instead.

"I'm a woman, Clarke," I said.

Clarke widened her eyes. Was that that surprising? I don't see the reason for her to be shock that she's with a woman. Was she really that ignorant?

"A lesbian," Clarke said.

Clear point. "What is the purpose of this conversation?" I asked. We had been standing at the elevator lobby and 3 elevator cars had already passed.

Clarke shakes her head and sighs, "nothing, Lexa. Let's just go to our rooms."

I had an excellent workout at the hotel gym, and returned with a message light blinking. It's Clarke.

"Where the hell were you?" She said.

"In the gym. Exercise is critical in reducing the jet lag effect. I also need sunlight. 27 minutes under the sunlight. It's good for my health."

"Are you some kind of a vampire, that you need to take down minutes before running for the shadows?"

Was that a joke? I don't find it funny. But Clarke sure does. She was laughing so loudly that I could hear her from the other room.

"Aren't you forgetting something? Today is  _my_ day  _and_ tomorrow. I own you until midnight tomorrow. Now get your butt out of your room cause I'm heading out soon for breakfast!"

"In my gym clothes?"

"Are you wearing just your sports bra and leggings?" Clarke asked.

"Yes."

There was a silence on the other line. I don't know if Clarke already left her room that she forgot that we were still talking.

"Clarke?"

"Uh no! Hit- Hit the shower, Lexa. Dress up. You have 10 minutes!" Clarke said.

"I always have my breakfast before I shower."

"What are you? 5?" She said, aggressively. She didn't wait for a reply. "You're a grown ass woman for pit sake!  _I always have my breakfast before I shower._ _Don't stand there, I always stand on the right side...._ Don't fuck with me, Alexandria Woods!" She said the last words quite loudly that I can hear her voice through the wall. I decided it was best not to fuck with her. By midnight tomorrow it would be over. In the interim, I would adopt the ER mindset.

It seemed I was in for a bumpy ride with how critical Clarke already was once I reached downstairs.

"Do you have any sentimental attachment to that shirt?" She asked.

"No."

"Good," Clarke said. "It doesn't owe you anything. Upstairs. Other shirt."

"It's wet."

"I mean Octavia's shirt and put on the jeans while you're at it. I'm not walking around the city with a bum."

When I came down the second round, Clarke seemed please.

"You know, you're not such a bad looking woman underneath." Clarke looks at me from top to bottom, nodded her head. 5 seconds later, "Lexa, you're not enjoying this aren't you? You'd rather be by yourself in a museum somewhere in the city, right?"

She's extremely precise.

"I get that," she touched the tip of her nose - tapping it 2 more times. "But you've done all of these thing for me, you've brought me to Ark City, and, by the way, I haven't finished spending your money yet. So I want to do something for you."

I could argue with her that her  _wanting_ to do something for me meant that she was solely acting in her own interests, But it might provoke more of the 'don't fuck with me' behaviour. I heard from Raven once that she played a trick on Clarke and the 'don't fuck with me' behaviour happened but Raven did not listen. Raven didn't get to walk for a month.

I looked down on my two legs and looks at Clarke.

"You're in a different place, you're in a different clothes. When the Sky People came down to Earth they have to adopt with their surroundings and burn all their clothes and change into a new one. Now, I know it may sounds harsh, But I'm not asking you to burn your clothes -  _yet._ Put them on again on  _your_ day. Just try to be open to something different. Shake it off. Loose yourself a little. Relaaxxx. Let me show you my world for a couple of days. Starting with breakfast. We're in the city with the best breakfast in the world!"

She must have seen that I was resisting.

"Hey, you schedule your time so you don't waste it, right?"

"Correct."

"So you've committed 2 days with me. If you just shut yourself down and let the fun flow within you. You'll not be wasting 2 days of your life with someone who's trying to make things exciting and productive and fun for you. Okay, first-..." She stopped and then patted her pockets. "Shit. I forgot my guide. I'll go up and when I come down, get ready cause I will blow your freaking mind! Don't move!" She turned and ran for the elevator.

I was disturbed by Clarke's logic. There's an argument that she had not presented, because she could not have known it. In the last eight weeks I had experienced two of the three best times of my adult life, assuming all visits to the Museums were treated as one event. They had both been with Clarke. Was there a correlation? It was critical to find out.

By the time Clarke comes down, I had performed a total brain reboot, an exercise requiring a considerable effort of will. But I was not configured for adaptability.

"So?" She said.

"So, how do we find the world's best breakfast?"

/////

At last, we found the World's Best Breakfast after 27 minutes of walking and stopped at the diner at the corner of our hotel. It's completely - as Clarke puts it - 'blow your freaking mind' at how terrible of a navigator Clarke was. But of course, with the course of my compliance to Clarke's Day I took the liberty to push it aside, shut myself down and 'let the fun flow' within me. It was a chaos. 

The horror that I've seen. The terror of the most unhealthiest breakfast I had ever eaten, but I would not put on significant weight, nor lose fitness, brain acuity or martial-arts skills if I neglected them for few days. This was the mode that my brain was functioning on. 

"Omg. I can't believe you ate  _all_ that," Clarke said. 

"It tasted very delicious, Clarke," I replied. 

Clarke laughed and she was looking at me. Perhaps it was the 'food coma' - as what Raven usually says - that got her looking at me unnecessarily long. I made an attempt to gauge back her attention. "Clarke?"

"No lunch. No dinner!" Said Clarke. 

I said, "we can eat any time. Your day. Your rule." 

Our server approached the table. Clarke indicated the empty coffee cup and the server poured another cup of coffee. She turned to me and smiled, "Can I get you anything, beautiful?" 

Clarke suddenly coughed. 

"I'm fine. Thank you." 

"Are you sure?" The server bent down, causing her feminine cleavage to show. Clarke coughed, she should really get those check up. Perhaps we could visit the pharmacy for throat relief syrup. I shall suggest it while once we head out. "You can have coffee, tea  _and me."_

Clarke suddenly stood up, almost knocking over the table, "Okay! We would like the bill please? Thank you!" Our server looks at her and nodded, before briskly walking back to the counter. 

Clarke sat down and seemingly saying something but it was too soft. 

"Clarke," She looks at me. "Is something troubling you?"

"What? No!" She shakes her head. "Nothing! Everything is  _perfect."_

"Are you sure? Should we visit the pharmacy and purchase a cough syrup? I would suggest Ark Remedy. The finest scientists and specialists-..." 

"Ark what now?" 

"Ark Remedy," I repeat. Her face shows a sign of confusion, which I do not understand when everything was remotely clear. "For your cough," I elaborated. 

"Cough? I don't have a cough," she said. 

"You were coughing quite heavily a moment ago. I'm afraid that your throat is troubling you-..." 

"OH! Ohhhhhh... That wasn't about me feeling sick. It's because she was fli-...," Clarke suddenly stopped and I was, yet again, caught with an unfinished conversation when Clarke decided to leave the table. "Jesus, what's taking the bill so long?"

/////

We walked downtown. Clarke was looking at a guidebook called  _Tourist Guidebook: Let's Get Lost!_ Which seemed a very poor choice. 

"Where are we going, Clarke?" I asked. 

"We're not going anywhere. We're already there," she said, grinning widely. 

We were outside a clothing store. Clarke pointed at it and asked if it was okay to go inside. 

I said, "you can do whatever you want, Clarke. It's Clarke Day. You're in control." 

Clarke laughed, "Clarke Day. I like that. I guess I'm the commander now of this ship, huh. I like shopping. It's a girl thing. I really wanna say, I suppose its your thing too since you're a girl. But I don't suppose anything with you." 

The situation was symmetrical. I knew not to suppose anything about Clarke, or I would have been surprised by describing shopping as girl thing to do, a stereotypical descriptions of girls. But then again, I already knew that I am not normal. 

Clarke was becoming remarkably perceptive about me. I had never been to the conference centre or the museums or my daily breakfast by the bakery across from the hotel, but with my new mind configuration, I was finding everything fascinating. A whole shop of fake moustaches and beards. The price of make-up. The horse centre. The huge sex shop that shapes like a male genitalia. Clarke looked at the sign that says, 'Welcome Ladies, It'll be our pleasure'. She chose not to enter the premises. This was probably a good decision - it might be fascinating and I might find even more sexual positions, but the risk of a embarrassing moments would be very high.

"Do you want to anything?" Clarke asked.

"No."

A few minutes later, a thought occured to me. "Can we go back to the ladies shop at Sky avenue?"

Clarke laughed. "Come on, Sky girl let's find you something to wear." She grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the shop. I detected sarcasm, but in a friendly way. I also detect warmth and I realised that I was holding Clarke's hand. I looked at it and continued walking.

We found a new blouse that I am very certain will be on the approval list of Octavia. Clarke made me try a dress but I explained that it is very inconvenient and not suitable for my work place.

"Oh just stop complaining, Lexa! And just try it on!"

How could she see it as complaining. It's the same explanation I did with the airport officials and they understood me completely - they gave me a privilege 'enough for a lifetime flying.' How can Clarke not understood my elaborated explanation. 

"Oh Lexa... Yes!" Clarke exclaimed from the fitting room area. "You look hot." 

I assume she's not referring to the temperature because it is quite chilly inside the fitting room area. But then I realised what she actually meant. I turned to look at the long mirror and see what Clarke assumes as 'hot'. A black dress that touches above my knees, spaghetti strap with deep 'V' neck line. She suggested to remove my bra for this and now I know why. 

"Okay." 

"Okay?" Clarke asked. She ran in front of me and her blue eyes were wide and mouth was agape. She looks shocked. 

"Yes," I said. 

"You- You'll buy the dress?!" 

"Yes, Clarke. I will buy the dress," I said. "Do you think Octavia will like it?" 

Clarke blinked, "Oh... Um... Pfft! Yeah! Sure, she'll like it. Octavia will surely... Right." 

I noticed Clarke was a little quiet when we left the shop. But I was still very excited to show Octavia what I had bought from Ark City. I knew she'll be very happy because I finally bought clothes that was meant for  _my age._

"Octavia will love this," I said and I could not hide my smile. 

"She sure will," Clarke said, suddenly walking fast that I have to catch up with her. But then she suddenly stopped and stares at the ice cream cart by the side walk. "We're skipping lunch. I could really need an ice-cream right now." She walked up to the ice-cream vendor and ordered, "double dutch chocolate cone with chocolate syrups.  _Alot_ of chocolate syrup, please. I seriously need it." 

I watched the vendor scooped up the ice cream and smeared it with remarkable amount of chocolate syrup. I was filled with an irrational sense of dread. I had found the source immediately. But I had to know. "Is the flavour important?" 

"Yeah. Anything chocolate. That's why we have different flavours, Lexa," Clarke said. 

"All ice-creams taste the same. Just like rat barbecue and chicken barbecue." 

"Bullshit!" 

I explained about tastebuds and how can the ice cream can relate to rat and chicken barbecue. 

"Pfft! Wanna bet?" Said Clarke. "If I can tell the difference between chocolate double dutch and rocky road, two tickets to  _Wanheda_. On Ark Theatre. Tonight." 

"The texture will be different. Because of the brownies and marshmallows." 

"Any two," Clarke shrugs. "Your choice." 

So I went to the next door vendor and bought a Rat Barbecue and Chicken Barbecue. "Close your eyes," I said. I first handed the chicken."Chicken," guessed Clarke, correctly. I took another experiment and toss a coin - heads, chicken - tails, rat. It was heads. "Chicken," she guessed right again.

She picked the chicken 4 times correctly and 3 times the rat. The chances of her achieving this result randomly  was 32. I could be 98% that Clarke can differentiate. Incredible. 

"So, Wanheda tonight?" 

"No, You got one wrong." 

Clarke looked at me, very carefully, then burst out laughing. "You're bullshitting me, aren't you? Wow, Professor Lexa Woods is making a joke." 

"Professor _Alexandria_ Woods." 

"Whatever, Professor Lexa." The barbecues were finished and her ice cream was already melting. She quickly eat her ice cream but half way, she stopped and gave me. "I'll be nice. You can have the rest of the ice cream." 

I looked at it. What to say? She had been licking it. 

Once again she read my mind, "How are you going to kiss a girl if you won't share her ice cream?" 

For several minutes, I was uplifted with an irrational feeling of enormous pleasure, basking in the success of my joke, and analyse on the kiss sentence. Kiss  _a girl._ Share  _her_ ice cream - it was third person, but surely not unrelated to the girl who was sharing her ice cream right now with Professor Lexa Woods- No, Professor  _Alexandria_ Woods - just as I like how it sounded like with the inclusion of my 'professor' title - walking around the Ark Park in her new blouse and jeans, on a very sunny afternoon. 

I needed the 96 minutes of time-out back in the hotel and recharge, although I had enjoyed the day immensely. Shower, email, meditation and light stretches. I emailed Raven, copying Octavia, with the summary of our activities. 

"Hello?" I answered my phone.

"There's a thing called cellphone, you dummy! Don't email us. We wanna hear  _everything."_ Raven said and I believe that I was on a loud speaker because I can Octavia and  _the animal_ on the background. 

"I enjoyed my time immensely," I said. 

"And then? How's Clarke?" Raven asked. 

I pictured Clarke laughing and smiling, and vouch for her. "Clarke's enjoying herself as well." 

"That's great, Lexa!" It was Octavia. "Did you like our presents?" 

"Oh yes! Have you used my present yet?" Raven added. 

My eyes quickly landed on my hand carry and remembered the book. "Yes, to the clothes. Thank you, Octavia. And No, for the book." 

"Hey! I skipped my tutoring just to buy that and give it to you just enough time before your flight." 

"It's inappropriate, Raven!" Octavia said. "Just enjoy your time, Lexa. Can't wait to see you. We miss you." 

"Please, Lexa. Please be careful, okay?" Raven said. "Please don't make any rush decisions." 

I have no idea what she was implying to but I might have a guess. And it's the girl who gave me a sex position book talking about the girl who was ringing my hotel landline. I picked it up and answer it with my other ear. "Hello?" 

"Lexa! We're gonna be late. Come down now," said Clarke. 

I said my goodbye to her and return to Raven and Octavia, "I have to go. I'm heading out with Clarke watching Wanheda." 

"Yes! YAASS! Lexa is going on a date! Finally! A proper one too!" Raven exclaimed through the phone that  _the animal_ starts barking. "Shhh! Quiet, Fish!" 

"Okay, we will leave you and Clarke alone. Enjoy, Lexa!" Octavia bid and seemingly arguing with Raven. "Put down the damn phone, Raven. Give me that-...." 

Clarke was 5 minutes early for our 7pm lobby meeting. I was about always on time for meeting but this time round Clarke beat me to it. She was waiting with her black laced dress that she rolled up her sleeves up to her elbow, and her make-up was beautifully done. I was having a flashback when I first saw Clarke's costume during the No Dress Code Disaster and my eyes quickly landed on her familiar necklace cascading down on the dip of her chest. 

I heard the Beer Signal - cough and saw Clarke smiling at me. 

"You looking very elegant, Clarke" I said. It was a risky statement, but her reaction appeared to be positive. She did look very elegant. 

"And you're wearing the hot dress," Clarke smiles. "You look very beautiful, Lexa." 

I don't know what to say with that because just like any other awkward situation, I would make myself look ridiculous and that entertains people. But Clarke seems to be ahead of me this past few days. She grabs my hand and pulls me into the streets even before I could reply. 

We had cocktails at a posh restaurant-bar with the World's Longest Cocktail List, including some that I've never heard before. Then we saw Wanheda. Afterwards, Clarke felt the story was a bit over exaggerated and predictable but I was overwhelmed by everything, in a huge positive way. I love history and this speaks my fascination with everything. I had never been to the theatre since I was child. I could have ignored the story line because its an adaptation of the history and focused entirely on the sword fighting skills and the dripping blood on the actors faces. It's incredibly fascinating. 

We caught the subway back to our hotel. I was hungry, but I didn't want to suggest since it's Clarke Day. But apparently Clarke have this planned too. at 10.30pm, she have us booked at a restaurant called Dropship. 

"This is me to you, saying thank you for bringing me here," Said Clarke. 

We were sitting by the counter where live chefs cooking before us. The level of anxiety and stress was building up, which partially caused by the heat and blazing fire from the stoves. I felt another warmth on my hand, it was Clarke's. 

"You okay?" She asked. 

"Perfect," which was an over statement, but it feels right tho. Clarke's smile grew wider and I felt a squeeze on my hand. I didn't realised that she was still holding my hand until we were served with our food. 

I lost counted of the courses. I had breadsticks, mushroom soup and some unknown dish that Clarke won't explain nor say the name of. But it is slimy and chewy and I've finished 3 plates of it. I am very full!

We drank a bottle of Mascato and I talked to the chefs and they told me what they were doing. Clarke seems to be quiet for most of the time I was talking to them until another chef talked to her. I watched them interact and she seems to be enjoying her time. This is good. I would always imagine ladies not enjoying my time because I was boring. Raven says so herself too. 

Clarke slid a piece of paper on the counter and chuckles as she speaks, "the cute chef gave me his number." 

"That's great to hear, Clarke," I said, sipping on my champagne. 

Clarke nodded, "Okay," before crushing the paper and throw it on her dirty plate. 

"Did I upset you?" I asked. I thought I said the right thing, that's the most conventional thing that I could think of. Should I have consulted Raven and Octavia before giving her answer?

"It's good, Lexa. Let's just enjoy the night." 

I was still skeptical. Spending large proportion of my hours with Clarke, equivalent to me being extra careful and sensitive with my surrounding. I had been warned by Raven. 

A gentleman sitting beside me with heavy piercing on his right ears, nose and lip, heard my accent and asked, "Where were you from?" 

I answered him. 

"How are you finding Ark city?" 

I told him our findings and the activities that we did. That it has been highly interesting and enjoyable. I elaborated on many things but I was conscious that, under the stress of talking to a stranger, my manner had changed - or, to be precise,  _reverted -_ to my old style. During my days with Clarke, I was relaxed and laid back - which I've learned the hard way - and this continued with my conversation with the chef which was for formal and professional purposes. But the informal interaction with a stranger had triggered my usual communication mannerism. And my regular behaviour and speaking style is, I am well aware, considered _strange_ by many others. 

"You know what I like about Ark City?" He said. "There are so many weird people that nobody takes any notice. We all just fit right in." 

/////

"How was the day?" Clarke asked as we entered the hotel lobby. 

"The best day of my adult life," I said. 

Clarke seemed pleased by my answer that I decided not to finish the sentence, 'excluding the Museum trips.'

"Sleep in," She said. "We meet back here at 10am and we will do the brunch thing again. Capish?" 

It would have been totally irrational to argue. 

"Capish." 

////

"Did I caused any embarrassment?" 

Clarke had been concerned that I might have make some inappropriate comments during our tour of the Ark Historical Center Site. Our guide, a self-proclaimed descendant from the Sky People names Mori, who said that her ancestor had helped to built the remnants of the Ark and convert it to a habitual ground. I asked a number of technical questions that she answered intelligently and it seemed to me, enthusiastically. 

"You may have sounded a little pushy," Clarke finished her sentence with a question mark. "You may wanna change the tone of your voice. It gets kinda commanding sometimes. It freaks people out. You sort of move the attention away from the emotional impact." So, I had reduced the sadness. Excellent. 

The 2nd day was allocated to visit the popular tourist spots. We had breakfast at the World's Best Breakfast Diner and then went to the actual site of the Dropship where 300 soldiers were burned alive. It was a famous location and quite fascinating too. 

We were back at the hotel early - 5.17pm. 

"Back here at 7pm," Clarke instructed. 

"What are we having for dinner?" 

"Hotdogs. We, my friend are going to a game. A baseball game." 

I  _never_ watch sport. EVER. The reason are obvious - or should be to anyone who values their time. But my shut down mind, sustained the huge positive reinforcement and accepted the proposition. I spent the next 103 minutes on the internet, learning about the rules and the players. 

At Ark Stadium we got our hot dogs and beer. A man in a cap estimated age 37 years old BMI 43 (incredibly obese) sad beside me. He had 4 hot dogs! And he occupies 2 seats and my arm space. 

The game started and I started explaining to Clarke how the game really works. It was fascinating to see how the rules truly works in real life. Even the Fat Fan beside was also extracting comments from his rule book. 

"One last bat they're out. I'm telling you Sea Boats ain't gonna win the game. The Azgeda will be heading to the league. What of the odds? Everybody hates that team." He then burst laughing with bits of his hot dog spitting out of his mouth. 

I didn't know what the odds were. All I could tell him was that they were somewhere to a certain percentage based on the batting average and percentage of the home run listed in the profile I had read. I had not time to analyse or memorise the other statistics. Fat Fan seems impressed by this information and we began an interesting conversation. He explained to me how the scoring works and the statistical bets that baseball fans conduct every game. I had no idea that sports could be so intellectually stimulating. 

Clarke bought more beer and Hot Dogs and the my conversation with Fat Fan was getting interesting when the game was about to end. So he suggested that we should take the subway to Lane Station and go to a sports bar. As Clarke was about to go for the next agenda, I asked for her opinion and she agreed. 

We were there at the bar counter of a very crowded sports bar and Fat Fan and I continued with our conversation while Clarke sat down and observed. It was late when Fat Fan, whose actual name was Travis, said he had to go home. We exchanged number and I considered that I had made a new friend. 

One intriguing thing that Fat Fan Travis had mentioned that girls aren't intellectually knowledgable about sports. When he mentioned that Clarke suddenly stood up from her stool and was about to say something when I cut her in. 

"I'm a girl and I am knowledgable about sports," I said. 

"RESPECT," Fat Fan Travis bowed his head and laughs, in a good way. 

Walking back to the hotel, I realised that I had behaved in stereotypical male fashion. Drinking beer in a bar, watching television and talking about sports. It is generally known that this is the kind of behaviour that woman dislikes. 

I turned to Clarke, "do you dislike me?" 

"What?" She seems stunned but mostly confused. 

"I acted like a guy tonight. Drinking and talking about sports," I elaborated. 

Clarke laughs and touches my shoulder, "No, Lexa. You were perfect tonight. You're being normal." I was still skeptical. "I swear. You were amazing tonight. I had fun watching you being a guy tonight. It's a whole new world of Professor Alexandria Woods." 

"Professor  _Lexa_ Woods." 

Then Clarke bursted out laughing, shaking her head. "You're impossible, professor." 

It seemed a good opportunity to ask a question about Clarke's personal life. 

"Do you have a boyfriend?" I hoped I had used an appropriate term. 

Clarke looks at me for a 2 seconds and then answers, "Sure, I just haven't unpacked him from my suitcase yet," she said with an eye roll, obviously making a joke. 

I laughed, then pointed out that she haven't answered my question. 

"Lexa," She said. "Don't you think if I have a boyfriend you would have find out by now?" 

It seemed entirely plausible that I wouldn't have heard of him at all outside the Father Project. I did not know that Clarke and Raven and Octavia were childhood friends only recently. Of course, it would have been traditional to bring your boyfriend to the Ball as a partner, which turns out just her friend, Bellamy, who was apparently Octavia's older brother. I had asked Clarke many personal questions during the Father Project but this information was not touched. And then of course so as after having a wonderful time dancing at the ball and then offer me sex afterwards... But not everyone was bound to have such conversations. 

However, analysing this information it is still possible that Clarke might have a boyfriend who doesn't enjoy dancing, socialising with academics, was out of town currently, or was in an open relationship with her. She had no reason to tell me. Our relationship is very professional. In my own personal life, I had rarely mentioned Titus or my sister to Raven or Octavia or vice versa. They belonged to different parts of my life. I explained this to Clarke. 

"Fast forward, the answer is NO," Clarke said. 

We walked a bit more and then she said, "Long answer: you asked what I meant about being fucked-up by my father. What I've learned from Psychology, our first relationship with a guy is with our fathers. It affects how we relate to men forever. So, lucky me, I had 2 choices. Either with Kane, my materialistic fucked up step father, or my real father who ran away the minute I was pooped out by my mother. And I received this choice at a young age when Kane sits me down and has this, 'I wish your mother could be here to say this...' talk with me. You know the crap, I'm not your real father. You're father is coward weakling running away from his responsibility. With a mother who played too easy during her graduation party and decided to have you." 

"He said that to you?" 

"Not in those words. But you know, read in between the lines. I know that's what he meant." 

I thought that it is highly unlikely for a young girl to transcribe her step father's words into those  _kind_ of words. Being a psychology student, sometimes it is better to know the incompetence of the person's ability to convey their message. 

"So the bottom line is, I don't trust men. I don't believe what they are they are. I'm afraid that they'll just gonna let me down - just like my father did. And that's the summary of my  _years_ of learning psychology." 

It seems a very poor result after studying  _years_ of psychology. 

"So do you like girls?" I asked that question as a followed up question. I should have placed my words carefully, seeing the look on Clarke's face. "I'm sorry if I offended you." 

"No, no," Clarke said. "It's fine. It's um...," she cleared her throat - we really need that cough syrup. "Yes. Yes, Lexa. I am attracted to girls too." 

"That's good to know, Clarke. Thank you for sharing your personal life with me," I said. Omitting the look of frown from Clarke. 

"Are you interested on anyone, Lexa?" Clarke asked. 

It took me awhile to reply. I was trying to give a positive response after hearing Clarke's personal life. I feel obligated to at least give something at the same level of satisfactory. 

"Yes." 

Clarke opened her mouth but then closed it. Then she smiled. My answer seems enough to meet her expectations. Good. So I left out the last part, "I'm interested on Alie from the Big White Mansion reality show that Raven and Octavia binge watch." 

We seemed to move forward after a long silence. "You want to meet tomorrow evening?" Clarke asked. "I can do whatever you want to do." 

I had been thinking about my plans for the next day. "I know someone at Barracks," I said. "Maybe we can go there together." 

"What about the museum?" 

"I've already compressed total visits into 2. Then compressed it more into 1." There's no logic in this but I had drunk a lot of beer, and I just felt like going to the Barracks.  _Let the fun flow within you._

"See you at 8am and don't be late!" Clarke said. Then she kissed me. 

It was not a passionate kiss; it was on the cheek, but it was disturbing. Neither positive nor negative; just disturbing. 

I emailed Ontari at Barracks then Skyped Octavia and told her everything that had happened today, excluding the kiss. 

"Sounds like she's made a huge effort," Octavia said. "How do you find it?" 

"Immensely exhilarating." 

This was obviously true. Clarke did managed to select activities that I would normally avoid, but enjoyed remarkably. 

"And now you're giving her a guided tour of the Museums tomorrow?" 

"No, I'm going to look at the fauna and flora and the decomposing earth," I said. 

"Try again, Lexa," Octavia said. "Oh  _please_ try again!" 


	12. Fly Me To The Sky Part IIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And their adventure at Ark City Continues! Walls had gone down. Words were exchanged. Efforts were done. ACTIONS WERE DONE? Something sweet. The feels. THE STEAMY?
> 
> Go ahead I know you're curious what happened next. You'll be happy. 
> 
> Cheers!

We took the subway to the Barracks. Ontari had nor replied my email. I did not mentioned this to Clarke who had invited me to her meeting, with Callie Cartwig - an associate professor of psychiatry in the Medical Faculty. 

"I'll say you're a fellow researcher," she said to me. "I'd like you to see what I do when I'm not mixing drinks." 

I nodded. I had an initial thought that Clarke is going to ask me to be her girlfriend again. It was a relief. 

I had never asked Clarke the topic of her PhD. It turned out to be the Environmental Risk for Early Onset Personality Disorder, a serious scientific topic. Clarke's approach and factors were well converse with her 78 minutes session with Callie. 

After their conversation we went for coffee where more questions were asked. 

"At heart," Callie said to Clarke," its very clear that you're a psychiatrist rather than a psychologist. You've never thought of transferring to Medicine?

"I came from a medicine family," Clarke said. "I kind of like the black sheep of the family." 

"Well, if you're done being the black sheep, we've got an excellent MD programme here." 

"Right," Clarke rolled her eyes. "Me at Barracks." 

"Oh pish-posh. Why not? In fact, since you came all this way to Ark City... Give me a second." She made a quick phone call, then grins. "Come and meet the Dean." 

As we walked back to the Medical Building, Clarke said to me, "I hope you're incredibly impressed." Nudging me with her elbow. I am impressed. Clarke is incredibly impressive, for a barmaid. 

We arrived at the Dean's office and she stepped out to greet us. 

"Lexa!" She said and pulled me for a tight hug and peck both of my cheeks. 

"Everytime," I said, struggling to get out of her strong grip.

Ontari laughed, "still same old you, Stiff." I looked at her dead-set. And she laughed even louder. "I just received your email. I haven't got the chance to reply!" 

"Unmistakably," I said. 

I saw Clarke looking at us, showing a clear level of confusion and I stepped up and said, "Clarke, please meet the dean of Barracks University, Ontari." 

Ontari turned to Clarke, "Hi, I'm Ontari. You're with Lexa?" 

"Ye-Yes," Clarke stumbled. 

"Well lucky her," Ontari grabbed me by the waist and squeezed it before stepping back behind her desk. A high level of anxiety kicked in before Clarke stepped beside me and smiles.

Callie made a Beer Signal causing Ontari to finally realized that one of her professors were there too. "Professor Cartwig, thank you for bringing Clarke and Lexa over. How about we head out for lunch? My treat!" 

We all had lunch at the restaurant near the University. Ontari told Clarke that she had supported my O-1 visa application. "I think we both know how our little friend here gets a little out of hand with the government." 

Clarke laughed. And I felt the level of anxiety risen and the embarrassment was definitely clear on my face. 

"Oh my, are you alright, Lexa?" Callie asked. "You're face is red." 

"Oh she'll be fine, Callie. Same old stiff. Always turning red when embarrassed." Ontari said, earning me another round of laughter. Clarke smiles at me and nodded. 

"Well I wouldn't be the class clown if I didn't, would I?" I said. My old-mannerism has taken over and the class clown is back. 

Ontari chuckles, "Yupp, nothing beats the old Lexia-the Red Clown." Clarke must have shown confusion and Ontari explained to her why. 

"You broke your nose and made fun of yourself in front of your class?" Clarke asked. She literally repeated Ontari's words. Why is she asking a question?

"Yes." I said. 

"We've all been wondering where Lexa got her hilarious tactics but it never grows old," Ontari smiles, pinching me on the cheeks. 

"Ontari," I said, looking back at her. 

She raised her hands in the air, "I didn't lie tho. Any time Lexa feels like joining the main game, there's a job for her here." Clarke turns to me and gave that look. A look that I can't comprehend. Then Ontari grabs my hand and squeeze it. "I would love to spend more time with this gal," Ontari finished. 

Clarke remained silent for quite some time. 

/////

Grilled chicken is supposedly more healthy conscious, but I always treat that statement with great suspicion. They were always overly exaggerated based on the comparison of cooking method and ignores the augmentation. Grill good, fry bad. But what else do you need when grilling? Oil - high saturated fat, cholesterol. Low-cholesterol oil? Another topic to tackle.

Our grilled chicken at Boat Quay was excellent. World's Best Grilled Chicken. 

I was interested in one of the statements Clarke made at Barracks. 

"I thought you admire your mother. Why wouldn't you want to be a doctor?" 

"It wasn't my mother. My father's a doctor too. Remember? That's what we're here for." She puts down her fork and knives and wipe her lips with the napkin. "I thought about it. I did the exam and I did get 77. HAH! In your face!" Despite the aggressive words, her expression remained friendly. "I thought that doing Medicine would be a sign of some sort of obsession with my real father. Like I was following him rather than Kane. Even I could see that was a bit screwed up." 

Raven frequently states - basing on her genuis head - that psychologists are incompetent at understanding themselves. Clarke seemed to be proving this thoery. Why avoid something that you would immensely enjoy and be good at? And surely after  _years_ of studying psychology and then several more years of post graduate research should have provided a more precise classification of her behavioural, personality and emotional problems than 'fucked/screwed-up'. 

Naturally, I did not relay this thoughts. 

We were first in line when the Museum opened at 10.00am. I had planned to visit according to the history of the Earth, the Earth's after-life after the apocalypse, The life of humans living in space. The study of billions of stars. The grounders history and artifacts in six hours. 

At noon, Clarke suggested to push lunch later to spend continuous time visiting the museum. Later, she stopped me in front of the artifact of 'Charlotte's Knife'. The knife used to kill Wells Jaha the son of one of the leaders at the space station 147 years ago. 

"I read an article about this. It was a girl named Charlotte. She stabbed Wells Jaha to keep away from her nightmares."

It was a true gruesome history, but a quite significant one. 

"I would have never thought of having a child turning into a murderer." Clarke bit her lips. It was in deep shades of red. Did she put a lips stick  on a moment ago? "Have you ever thought of having children, Lexa?"

"Yes," I said, forgetting to deflect this personal question. "But it seems both unlikely and inadvisable." 

"Why?" Clarke was frowning. 

"Unlikely because I have lost confidence with the Wife Project. And unadvisable because I would be an unsuitable mother." 

"Why?" 

"Because I'd be an embarrassment to my children."

Clarke laughed. I thought this was very insensitive but later, she explained that all parents are an embarrassment to their children and that includes Kane. 

"But I saw how well you handled Whitman's children. They love you." Clarke said, reaching for my forearm.

I stepped back. 

"I'm not so sure, Clarke." I said. I turned around and walked for the Pauna exhibition. 

At 3.48pm, we had finished the grounder's artifacts. "Oh man, are we done? Is there something else to see?" 

"We have two more things to see, " I said. "You may find them monotonous." 

I took her to a large dark hall - a high ceiling hall - with a large replica of the space shuttles used centuries ago, hanging above us. The display is not dramatic but the information is. People who are not interested on history, none-scientists, frequently have no idea about the scale. How big the Ark or the space shuttle is compared to in real life. Despite this is the miniature size, the display is a great piece of art. I did my best to make it interesting for Clarke. 

 

Then we went to another spacious hall. Where the very same replica of the Commander's tower stood. Then we went inside a room lit up by scattered candles, the same replica of the Commander's bed room back in the old Polis. There are pictures and historical artifacts that belongs to the old Commander. I don't need to look at this items because I already know the story, which I related as accurately and dramatically as I could, putting all that we had seen during the day into context, as we walked around the tower's hallway until we reached the throne room. 

Clarke stood silently, staring at the throne in the middle of the dim room. Then she shifted her eyes at the direction in the corner of the room where the  _chip_ \- that belongs to the old Commander - laid in a glass case. It was almost closing time now, and we were the only people standing there. 

"Do you know the name of the old Commander?" Clarke asked. 

Out of nowhere, I felt my chest constricted. 

On other occasions, I had listened to people's reactions as they reach the end. 'Makes you feel a bit unimportant, doesn't it?' they say. I suppose that is one way to look at it - how the history had mould us into this new future, somehow diminishing our lives' activities as not as significant as our history or Boat Quay's grilled chicken. When no matter how hard you try to do the best you can to conduct projects and life analysis, it will never be in comparison with history. 

But Clarke's response was a verbal version of mine - the vast of it all. 

"Lexa," I answered. 

"Wow," she said, very quietly, looking back at me - smiling.

Then, in this vanishingly small moment in the middle of the Earth's history, she took my hand and held it tightly all the way to the subway. 

//////

We had one vital task to perform before we leave Ark City the following morning. Delano, the trauma doctor and potential biological father of Clarke, who was 'booked solid', had agreed to see us for fifteen minutes at 11.15am. 

Clarke had told his PA that she was writing a series of articles for publication about successful alumni of the university - excluding the vigilante part. I was carrying Clarke's camera and would be identified as a photographer. 

Getting the appointment was difficult enough, but it had become apparent that collecting the DNA would be far more difficult in a working environment than in a social or domestic location. The last minute change of location - or more so the pre-setup brunch - had presented this predicament. I had set my brain in forming a solution before leaving Ark City, and had expected it to produce an outcome through background process, but it had apparently been too occupied with other matters. 

The best that I could think of was a spiked ring that would draw blood when we shook hands, but Clarke considered this socially infeasible. 

She suggested clipping hair, either surreptitiously or after identifying it as a stray that would mar the photo. Surely, a trauma doctor would care enough for his appearance. Unfortunately, a clipped hair was unlikely to yield an adequate sample - it needed to be plucked to obtain a follicle. Clarke packed a pair of tweezers. 

For once, I had hoped I'll be submerged in a smoke room. Then a cigarette butt would solve this problem. We would have to be alert for his opportunities. 

Dr. Delano's building is in the upper west side. Clarke pressed the buzzer and a receptionist appeared, a fairy thin blonde woman (BMI 16) and took us up the stairs with walls completely filled with framed certificates and letters from patients praising Dr. Delano's work. 

Then the receptionist, with an obvious large buttocks  led us into his office. More certificates! Plaques! I turned around where the receptionist had exit out and noticed Clarke was looking back at me, smiling. 

Dr Delano himself had a major fault: He was completely bald!  The hair-plucking approach would not be viable. Nor was there any evidence that he was a smoker. 

Clarke conducted the interview very impressively. Delano described some procedures with minimal clinical justification, and with a very clear disregard with the government. It was fortunate that I had been appointed the none-speaking role, as I would have been strongly tempted to argue.

I was also struggling to focus. My mind was still processing the Museum and hand-holding incident. 

"I'm sorry," Clarke said. "but could I bother you for something to drink?" 

Of course! The coffee swab solution. 

"Of course! My apology, I didn't ask earlier." Delano said. "Coffee or tea?" 

"Coffee would be great," Clarke said. "Will you have one yourself?" 

"I'm good. Let's keep going." He pushed a button on his intercom. "Brittany. Coffee please." 

"You should have a coffee. We insist," I said to him. 

"Never touch it. Never will," he shakes his head. 

"Unless you have a genetic intolerance of caffeine, there are no proven harmful effects. On the contrary-..." 

"What magazine is this for again?" 

The question was straightforward and very predictable. We had agreed the name of the fictitious university magazine name in advance, and Clarke and I already used it in her introduction. 

But my brain malfunctioned. Clarke and I spoke simultaneously.

Clarke said, " _Advances of Polis."_

I said, " _Advances of Ark."_

It was a minor inconsistency that any rational person would have interpreted as a simple, innocent error, which in fact it was. But Delano's reaction appeared confusion, disbelief and then quickly scribbled down something on the notepad. I always thought that vigilante's or who committed a crime against the law would always feel inferior and threatened if someone from their past - in this case, us being from Polis - chased after them, they'll start to act suspiciously. I should have thought of a backup plan. This inconsistency might be the end of it all. 

When Brittany - receptionist with a big buttocks - came with Clarke's coffee, Delano gave the piece of paper to her. 

I diagnosed paranoia and I started to formulate an escape plan. 

"I need to use the bathroom," I said. 

I planned to call Brittany and asked for Delano, so that Clarke could escape while he took the call. 

I walked towards the exit, but Delano blocked my path. 

"Use my private one," He said. When I didn't move, he gestured at the far end of the hall and I had my doubt that it's not a bathroom. "Come on, I insist." 

I was brought back again to the moment of my confrontation at Vincent Vie's basement. 

He led me through the brightly lit hallway and into a dark room with 'Private. Personnel Only'. He switched on the light and its an office. Then he pointed at the door at the far corner, and left me there. There was no other exit besides from the door that I came from. 

I went inside the bathroom and immediately called 665 - directory assistance - and they connected me to Brittany. I could hear the phone ring and Brittany answer. I kept my voice low and altered it.

"I need to speak with Dr. Delano," I said. "It's an emergency." I explained that my mom is his patient and her stitches were ripped and she's bleeding profusely and that I have no idea what to do. And with an addition of panic and cry in my voice to make it sounds realistic. 

The very second that Brittany fetched for Delano, I hung up and texted Clarke. 

_'Exit now.'_

The bathroom was in dire need of the grounder lady's service. The smell and orderliness. Its a chaos! I managed to open the window, which had obviously not been opened for a long time. We were five floors up, but there seemed to be plenty of handholds on the wall. I eased myself out of the window and started climbing down, slowly, focusing at the task, hoping Clarke had escaped successfully. 

It had been a long time since I've done wall climbing and the descent was not as simple as it first seemed. The wall was slippery from the rain earlier in the day and my running shoes was not suitable to grip on the side lines. I managed to lose my footings a couple of times but managed to grasp a rough brick. I heard shouts from below. 

When I finally reached the ground, I discovered that a small crowd had formed. Clarke was one of them, staring at me with wild expression on her face. I assumed she was shocked. 

She flung her arms around me. "Oh my God, Lexa! You could have killed yourself!" 

"The risk is minor. It was just important to ignore the height issue." I explained. 

We headed for the subway. Clarke was quite agitated. Delano had thought that she's some private spy sent over by the government to solicit information out of him. 

"He was going mad about Polis. How the police were still on his case. And he started accusing me as a spy. It's just ugghh... He got a security guard to detain me, Lexa! But nope, I kept denying. I raised my phone and getting ready to call the police the very second they touch me." 

Whether his position was legally defensible or not, we would have been in a difficult position. Thankfully, Clarke managed to escape unscathed. 

"I'm going to get changed," Clarke said. "I can't stand that office stench on me any longer. I just wish his not my real father. Cause I swear..." 

She turns to me and sighs. 

"So Professor Lexa Woods-..." 

"Alexandria." 

"... It's our last night in Ark City. What do you wanna do?" 

My original agenda was to go to a steakhouse, but now that we were in the pattern of eating together, I would need to select a restaurant suitable for a sustainable-seafood-eating 'vegetarian'. 

"We'll work something out," I said. "Lots of options." 

It took me 4 minutes to choose a shirt to change that's on Clarke's acceptable list. I waited downstairs for Clarke for another 8 minutes. Finally I went up to her room and knocked. There was a long wait. Then I heard her voice. 

"How long do you think it takes to take a shower?" 

"3 minutes and 38 seconds," I said. "Unless I wash my hair - additional 5 minutes and 44 seconds." The additional time was due primarily to the length of your hair and secondly, the requirement that the conditioner remain in place for sixty seconds. 

"Hold on." 

Clarke opened the door wearing only a towel. Her hair was wet and she looked extremely attractive. I forgot to keep my eyes directed towards her face. 

"Hey," she said, with her index finger gesturing up to her face. "No pendant. Eyes up here." She was right. I couldn't use the pendant excuse. But she didn't give me a lecture on inappropriate behavior. Instead, she smiled and stepped towards me. 

I wasn't sure if she was going to take another step, or if I should. But I knew for one, I'm starting to feel sick again. 

In the end, neither of us made the next move. It was an awkward moment but I suspected we had both contributed to the problem. 

"You should have brought the ring," Clarke said. 

For a moment, my brain misinterpreted the 'ring' as 'wedding ring' and began constructing a complete incorrect scenario. Then I realized she was talking about the 'spike ring' for collecting Delano's blood.

"To come all this way and not get any samples," Clarke shakes her head. "Quite disappointing." 

"Not so disappointing." 

"You got a sample?" 

"Yes. From his bathroom. What a slob. He should get his prostate check. The floor-..." 

"Stop," Clarke said, covering her ears. "Too much information. But excellent work Professor  _Alexandria_ Woods." 

" _Lexa,"_ I said, side-glancing at her. 

Clarke burst laughing, "wow. Professor  _Lexa_ Woods being funny. Keep it up," she winked at me.

"Very poor hygiene," I told her. "For a doctor, incredible waste of hygiene courses." 

"Wait till you're 55 and your partner's 45 and see how sloppy both of you get." 

"You're supposed to be pro-woman," I said, though I was beginning to doubt it. 

"It doesn't mean I want to be unattractive or a mess. All I'm saying as you grow old you tend to forget things or too weak to do things properly. You should know that. People grows old. Even you and I gets wrinkles but nobody wants to be that unattractive." 

"Appearance can be deceiving Clarke. He may look presentable but behind close doors, he's a total mess. In the first place, You're appearance should be irrelevant to your partner's assessment of you." 

Clarke took a step forward, sending me to step back. "Life is full of should-be's, Lexa. You're the research professor. Everyone notices how people look. Even  _you._ " Pressing a finger on my chest. 

"True. But I don't allow it to affect my evaluation of them." I argued. I realized my back was against the wall now and I suddenly felt claustrophobic with Clarke standing very close to me. 

I was on a dangerous territory: the issue of Clarke's attractiveness had got me into serious trouble on the night of the Polis Ball. The statement was consistent with my beliefs about judging people and with how I wished to be judged. But I had never applied these beliefs to someone who's standing inches from me in a hotel room wearing nothing by a towel. It dawned on me that I had not told the full truth. 

"Selectively ignoring the mess factor," I added. 

Clarke scoffed, "is there a compliment buried in there somewhere?" 

The conversation was getting more complicated. I tried to clarify my stand. 

"It would be unreasonable to give you credit for being incredibly beautiful." 

What I did next was undoubtedly a result of my thoughts being scrambled by a sequence of extraordinary and traumatic events in the preceding few hours: the museum, the hand holding, the escape from the trauma doctor and the extreme impact of the world's most beautiful woman standing naked under a towel inches from me. 

Raven should also take some blame for informing me that earlobe size was a predictor of sexual attraction. Small ears are attracted to small ears and vice versa. Since I had never been so sexually attracted to a woman before, I was suddenly compelled to examine her ears. In a moment that was, in retrospect, similar to any romantic movies ever showed, where I reach out and brushed her hair aside. 

But in this case, amazingly, the response was different from the movies, documentaries or novels that I had watched or read. I was never a fan of 'chic flick' movies but I am aware of some romantic gestures but I was always at the position of _'this will never happen to me_ ' genre. 

Clarke put her arms round me and kissed me. 

I think it is likely that my brain is wired in a non-standard configuration, but my ancestors would not have succeeded in breeding without understanding and responding to basic sexual signals. The only complication in this situation, is that a girl kissing a girl, hence, productivity is implausible. But that aptitude was hardwired in. 

I kissed Clarke back. 


	13. The Lexa Project

I, Professor Alexandria Woods, a historical researcher and part time lecturer at Polis University, is kissing the most beautiful woman that I had ever seen. In contrary to popular belief, this means 'the world is ending' - as Raven gladly say so herself. And I was on the brink of almost believing her. However, the impossibility has come into a reality and I am fully aware that Clarke Griffin is entering a very unfamiliar and dangerous place - and so have I.

I felt a strong tug on my lower lip and I - unexpectedly - moaned.

We abruptly stopped, pulled apart for a moment and stared at each other.

It was obvious that dinner is delayed.

Clarke studied me and said, "you know, if you remove you glasses, braid your hair back and put on war paint, you could be Commander Lexa from hundred of years ago."

"Is that good?" I assumed, given the circumstances, that it was, but wanted to hear her confirming it.

"She was only the most bravest and  _sexiest_ commander that the world has ever known."

We looked at each other some more, and I moved to kiss her again.

She stopped me.

"Lexa... This is Ark City. It's like a holiday. I don't want you to assume it means anything more," Clarke's eyes were half hooded. The exhaustion is evident in her and so have I.

"What happens in Ark City stays in Ark City right?" I said.

It was a line that Raven taught me for conference use. I had never employ it before or found its usefulness in which ever circumstances. Except now.

It was obviously important that we both consent that there was no emotional continuation. Although I did not have a wife or someone who's loves me tremendously back home like Raven, I had a concept of a wife that was very different from Clarke - who would presumably steps out of the balcony for a cigarette after sex. Oddly, the prospect didn't repel me as much as it should be

"I- I have to get something from my room," I said - and wondered where my stutter came from.

Clarke nodded a couple of times, "Good thinking. Don't take too long."

My room was only beside Clarke's, so it didn't take long to shower and thumbed through the book that Raven had given me. She had been right after all. Incredible.

I closed the hotel door and made a quick turn to Clarke's room. 57 minutes had passed. I knocked on the door, and Clarke answered, now wearing a sleeping costume that was, in fact, more revealing than the towel. She was holding two glasses of red wine.

"Sorry, it's gone a bit flat."

I looked around the room. The bed was turned down, the curtains were drawn and there was just one bedside lamp on.

I gave her Raven's book.

"Since this is our first - and probably - only time, and you are doubtless more experienced, I recommend that you select the position."

Clarke stares at the book with an expression that I can't read. She then thumbed through it, then started again. She stopped at the page where Raven had left a post it note.

' _In case you ran out of ideas. Hatch those eggs!' - Raven Reyes_

"Raven gave you this book?" She asked, eyeing me.

"It was a present for the trip," I informed.

I tried to read Clarke's expression again, and guessed discomfort and anger? But that disappeared and she said, in a non-angry tone.

"Lexa, I'm sorry. I can't do this. I'm really sorry." She gave me back the book.

"Did I say something wrong?"

"No, it's me. I- I'm really sorry."

"You changed your mind while I was gone?"

There was a pause. Then Clarke said, "Yeah. That's what happened. I'm sorry, Lexa."

"Are you sure I didn't do something wrong?"

Clarke was my friend and the risk to our friendship was now at the forefront of my mind. The sex issue had evaporated.

"No, no. It's me," She still said. "You were incredibly considerate."

It was a compliment that I wasn't accustomed of receiving. A very satisfying compliment. The night had not been a total disaster.

////

I could not sleep. I had not eaten and it was only 9.15pm. Raven and Octavia would be doing their own activities now and I did not feel like talking to either of them. I considered it inadvisable to contact Clarke again, so I rang my remaining friend.

Travis had eaten already, but we walked to a Mexican restaurant and he ate a second dinner. Then we went to a bar and watched baseball and talked about woman. I do not recall much of what either of us said, but I suspect that little of it would have been useful in making rational plans for the future.

/////

My mind had gone blank.

That is a standard phrase, and a normal exaggeration of this society with the bases of my current situation.

My brain stem continued to function, my heart is still beating, I did not forget to breathe. I was able to navigate in packing my bags, head to Ark Airport, negotiate check-in and board the plane to Polis. I manager to communicate with Clarke to the extend that I am able to do all of this activities.

But refelctive functioning was suspended.

The reason was obvious -  _emotional overload!_

My normal well-managed emotions had been allowed out in Ark City - on the advice of Octavia -  _the rational one -_ and had overly stimulated. Now they were running amok in my brain, crippling my ability to think. And I needed all my thinking ability to analyse the problem.

Clarke had the window seat and I was by the aisle. I followed the safety procedures, for one not dwelling on the unjustified and irrational priorities. In the event of impending disaster, we would all have something to do. I was in the opposite direction. Incapacitated.

Clarke put her hand on my arm. "How are you feeling, Lexa?"

I tried to focus on analyzing one aspect of the experience and the corresponding emotional reaction. I knew where to start. Logically, I did not need to take Raven's book out of my hotel room. Showing it to Clarke was not part of my initial plan for potential sexual encounter in Ark City. I may be socially inept, but with the kiss underway and Clarke wearing only a towel, there should have been no problem in proceeding. My knowledge of sexual positions were bonus, but probably irrelevant the first time.

So why did my instinct drive me to a course of action that ultimately sabotaged the opportunity?

The first - level answer was obvious. They were telling me not to proceed. But why? I identified three possibilities.

  1. I was afraid that I would fail to perform sexually.



It did not take long to dismiss this possibility. I might well have been less competent than a more experienced person - like Clarke - and could even have been rendered potent by fear, though I considered this unlikely. But I was accustomed to being embarrassed, even in front of Clarke. The sexual drive was much stronger than any requirement to protect my image.

2\. No condom.

In this era, Clarke would have thought that her possible sexual partner would ran out of the hotel room to get a condom. In one of Raven's experiences, this engineer from France took off and came back an hour later, sweating and panting with a raised hand, holding a box of condom. She said it was a challenge staying in an isolated hotel in the middle of nowhere and keeping up with her sexual drive strong until the French engineer comes back.

But I quickly dismiss this possibility because I obviously do not need one. It would have been easier for my case to proceed.

3\. I could not deal with the emotional consequences.

This third possibility only entered my mind after I eliminated the first and second. I immediately knew - instinctively! - that it was correct one. My brain was already emotionally overloaded. It was not the death-defying stunt from scaling the doctor's building or the memory of being interrogated in a dark cellar by a sword enthusiast who would stop at nothing to protect his secret. It was not even the experience of holding Clarke's hand during the beach walk, or Clarke's Tour Guide Day 1, or from the throne room of the museum to the subway, although those were contributor.

My instincts tell me if I added more in this experience - If I added the literally mind-blowing experience of having sex with her - my emotions would take over my brain. 'Head over Heart'. And they would drive me towards a relationship with Clarke. That would be a disaster for two reasons.

  1. She was totally unsuitable for the Wife Project and thus, in the long term.
  2. And she had made it clear that our relationship does not last beyond our time at Ark City.



This reasons were entirely contradictory mutually exclusive and based on entirely different premises. I had no idea which one was correct.

We were in the final stages of our descent into Polis runway. I turned to Clarke. It had been several hours since she asked her question, and I had now given it considerable thought.

How was I feeling?

"Very confuse," I said to her.

I expected her to have forgotten the question, but perhaps the answer made sense in any case.

"Welcome to the real world, Professor Alexandria Woods."

////

I managed to stay awake for the first few hours of our flight home to Polis in order to reset back my body clock, but it was difficult.

Clarke had slept for a few hours then watched a movie.

I looked over, and saw that she was sniffling. In fact, crying. She remove her headphones and wiped her nose then her eyes.

"You're crying," I said. "Is there a problem?"

"Wanheda," said Clarke. "It's just a sad story. The Commander abandoned Wanheda without saying a word..."

I had a pressumption that she's expecting me to say something but I didn't.

"I'm guessing you don't cry at movies." She said.

"Correct." I realised that this might be viewed as a negative - just as Raven and Octavia pointed out before. Hence, I added, in defense. "It seems to be a predominantly female behavior."

Clarke laughs softly and rolled her eyes. "Thanks for that." I can sense sarcasm too.

Clarke went quiet again but seemed to have recovered from her sadness that the movie had stimulated.

"So tell me, Lexa," she said. "do you feel  _anything_ when you watch a movie? You've seen Casablanca?..." I looked at her. "Okay, maybe that's way too classic. Maybe, The notebook?... Okay, Titanic. You should have seen Titanic  _at least..._  No?" 

I was familiar with this questions. Raven and Octavia had asked it after we watched a DVD together. So my answer is based on my reflection.

"I've seen romantic movies - Not specifically that you've mentioned - But the answer is no. Unlike Raven or Octavia, and apparently the majority of the human race, I am not emotionally affected by love stories. I don't appear to be wired for that response." I said.

Clarke seems to about to say something but then pause, then shakes her head and was quiet again.

/////

I visited Raven and Octavia for dinner on the Monday night. I was feeling unusually jet-lagged still, and as a result had some difficulty in providing a coherent account of the trip. I tried to talk about the talk with Luna at Barracks, the Museum trip and the meal at Boat Quay, but they seemed to be obsessed in grilling me about my encounter with Clarke.

I could not possibly entail every detail and obviously, I can't tell them about the Father Project activities.

Octavia was very pleased with the whistle, but it provided another opportunity for another interrogation. "Clarke helped you to choose this?"

Clarke! Clarke! Clarke! Clarke!

"The Serpent ring man and Superman recommended it. Best seller. The transaction is very straight forward."

Raven and Octavia look at each other across the dining table before looking back at me. I could sense 'bluetooth' communication above my head - they always do that.

Octavia leaned over the table and asked, "So Lexa, are you planning to see Clarke again?"

"Next Saturday," I said, truthfully, not bothering to tell her that it was not a social occasion - we had rescheduled the afternoon to analyse the DNA.

She seemed satisfied.

/////

I was eating lunch along in the University Staff Lounge, reviewing the Father Project file, Raven arrived with his meal and a glass of fresh orange juice and sat down opposite me. I tried to put the file away immediately but succeeded only in giving her the impression that I was trying to hide something.

Raven suddenly looked at the table behind me and said, "Oh my God!"

I turned to look and Raven snatched the folder, laughing.

"That's private!" I said a little bit too loud that it caught a few head turns - but Raven opened it. The photo of the graduation class slipped out of it and unto the table.

Raven seemed genuinely surprised. "My God. Where did you get this?" She was studying the photo intently, "Looks old. It must be 30 years old. What's all the scribble?"

"Organizing a reunion," I said. "Helping a friend. Weeks ago." It was a good answer, considering for the short time span but it didn't take effect as I expected it to be. Raven detected it.

"A friend?  _Right._ One of Lexa's  _many_ friends." She grins. "You should have invited Jacky Boy."

Jacky Boy aka Jake is one of the third party part time engineer hired by the University due to his exceptional skills. I've seen him a couple of times with Raven. We've exchanged pleasantries but that was it.

"Jacky Boy!" Raven waved her hand and a man in his mid 50s with short light brown hair and the most kindest blue eyes. He was smiling as he approached their table with his coffee in hand.

"Why?" I asked, looking back Raven.

"Who do you think took the photo?" Raven rolled her eyes and showed Jacky Boy the picture.

Of course. Someone had been required to take the photo. I was too stunned to speak.

"Oh man...," He took the photo and studied it closely. "I remember this night. The best night of my life. I was the only outsider," Jacky Boy said. "The only engineer tutor. Big-night - everyone pumped, no partners. Hottest ticket in town!" He laughed, shaking his head a little.

Raven pointed to a face in the photo. For the second time, I was looking back at Clarke's doppelganger.

"Dr. Abigail Griffin," Jacky Boy said almost in relief. "How could I forget her."

"Best doctor in town," Raven said. "One time I fell on my bike. She nursed me. I always feel homely when she's around. But after we moved out, it's like losing a second mother."

I was familiar with the tone of Raven's statement. There was a reason for her to remembering this woman. But the look on Jacky Boy's eyes can be a curious one. I made a quick decision and took note.

His finger moved one space to the left.

"Shawn Gillmer," Said Jacky Boy. "Not a great return on his tuition fees."

"He died, correct?"

"Killed himself."

This was new information. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure," Jacky Boy said. "Why did you have this photo anyway?"

I repeated the same reason that I said to Raven earlier. But at the same time, again, Raven caught me in a lie.

"Come on, Lexa. What's this really about?" Raven said.

I ignored the question and directed my attention back to Jacky Boy.

"Why did he do it?"

"Probably forgot to take his medicine," Jacky Boy shrugs. "He had Bipolar Disorder. Life of the party on a good day."

He looked at me. I assumed he was about to interrogate me as to the reason for my interest in Shawn Gillmer and the reunion, and I was thinking frantically to invent a plausible explanation. I was saved by the Dean - who obviously gave me a stern eye - before calling for Raven and Jacky Boy. The two quickly finished their drinks and left the table. I used a table napkin to swab Jacky Boy's coffee cup and left before anybody else notice.

////

I cycled to the University on Saturday morning with an unidentifiable, and therefore disconcerting, emotion.

Things were settling back into their normal routine. The day's testing would mark the end of the Father's project. At worst, Clarke might find a person that we had overlooked - another doctor or caterer or a musician during the party or perhaps someone who had left the party earlier. And I would have no reason to see Clarke again.

We met at the lab. There were three samples to test: the swab from Vincent Vie's fork, a urine sample from Delano's floor, and lastly, yet discreetly, Mrs. Gillmer's tears. I had not told Clarke about my visit to Mrs Gillmer's nor Jacky Boy's coffee-cup swab, though I am more anxious to know about Jacky Boy's result. There was a strong probability that Jacky Boy was Clarke's father. I tried not to think about it, but it was consistent with Jacky's reaction to the photo, his identification of Clarke's mother and looking at his physical attributes, huge possibility.

"What's the napkin?" Clarke asked.

I was expecting this question.

"Retest. One of the earlier samples was contaminated."

My improving ability at deception was not enough to fool Clarke.

"Cut the crap, Lexa. Who is it? It's Gillmer isn't it? You got a sample for Shawn Gillmer." Clarke insisted taking a step forward and I felt my leg took a step back.

It would have been easier to say yes but identifying the sample as Gillmer's would create great confusion if it tested positive. A web of lies.

"I'll tell you if it's the one," I said.

"Tell me now," she said. "It  _is_ the one."

"How can you know?"

"I just know."

"You have zero evidence. Vincent Vie's story makes him an excellent candidate. He was committed to getting married to someone else right after the party. He admits to being drunk. He was evasive at dinner. He's standing beside your mother in the photo."

This was something wasn't discussed before. It was such an obvious thing to have checked. Raven had once given me an exercise to do at conference: 'If you want to know who's sleeping with who, just look at who they sit with at breakfast.' Whoever Clarke's mother had been with that night would likely be standing next to her. Unless of course he was required to take the photo.

"My intuition versus your logic. Wanna bet?"

"Clarke-..." I was about to say something but Clarke shushed me.

It would have been ideally to response back because it is unfair to take the bet. I had the advantage of the knowledge from the basement encounter. Realistically, I considered Vincent Vie, Jacky Boy and Shawn Gillmer to be equally likely. I had mulled over Vincent Vie's reference  to 'cornering victims' and concluded that it was just a 'safe warning.' A warning for his secret to be not leaked out. He might have been protecting his friend but he could equally have been hiding himself. Though, if Vie was not himself the father, he could simply have told me to test his sample.

Perhaps his plan was to confuse me, to trick a professor like me - in which case it had succeeded, but only temporarily. Vie's deceptive behavior had caused me to review an earlier decision. If we reached a point where we had eliminated all other candidates, including Vie, I would test the sample I had collected from Mrs. Gillmer.

"Anyway, it's definitely not Delano," Clarke said, but certainly not impossible.

"Brown eyes. I should have thought of it at the time."

She interpreted my expression correctly: disbelief.

"Come on, you're a professor. He's got brown eyes. I got blue eyes. He can't be my father. I checked it with Mr. Google."

Amazing! Fantastic! She retains a professor of history and who have great knowledge of science, an alien of extraordinary abilities, to help find her father, she travels for a week spending almost every minute of her waking day with her, yet when she wants the answer to a question on science she goes to the 'Mr. Google'.

"Those models are simplications," I said, I turned my back on her trying to fix the perti dish.

She walked up in front of me and said, "Lexa, my mother has brown eyes. I have blue eyes. My father has to have blue eyes, right?"

"Wrong," I said. "Highly likely but not certain. The genetics of eye color are extremely complex. Brown is possible. So as blue."

"A medical student - a doctor - would know that, wouldn't she?"

Clarke was obviously referring to her mother. I thought it was probably the right time to give Clarke a detailed account of the deficiencies in medical education.

I just said, "Highly  _un_ likely. Raven used to teach genetics to medical students. That's a typical Raven simplification."

"Well fuck Raven," Clarke said. "I am so over Raven," she walked towards the fridge without opening it. "She just have to ruin everything..." I wasn't sure what she was referring to but even before I managed to ask. She turned and said, "just test the napkin. It's the one." But she sounded hesitant.

"What are you going to do when you find out?" I asked, side-looking at her. She looks troubled.

A ridiculous question to ask at a very later part of the Father Project. This question should have been raised earlier in the first part but then this only fore show the poor planning of the project.

"Funny you should ask," Clarke said, shaking her head a little. "I said it would help me get some closure... But I guess, I don't know... I always have this fantasy that one day... My real dad would came barging in and... you know, deal with Kane."

"For failing in keeping his promise of bringing you to the City of Light? It would surely be difficult to formulate a decent punishment after a long time, Clarke. "

"I said it was a fantasy, Lexa," She said. "I always saw him some sort of a hero. But now I know it's either one of this three people, and I've met two of them. Vincent Vie: 'Revisiting the past is not an enjoyable thing to do.' Delano: 'I consider myself the restorat-or of humanity.' Lunatics both of them! Just weak old guys who ran away."

The lack of logic here was astounding. At most, one of them had deserted her.

"Shawn Gillmer...," I began, thinking of Clarke's description of her potential father candidates would not apply to him, but if Clarke finds out the manner of how he died, she might interpret it as escaping his responsibilities.

"I know, I know, Lexa. But if it turns out to be someone else, some middle aged man who's pretending someone his not, then time's up, asshole."

I studied Clarke's expression: defiance and anger. Almost feeling horrified. "You're going to expose him?"

"That is correct, buddy." She patted me on my shoulder and smile.

"But you'll be inflicting pain. For no compensatory gain."

" _I'll_ feel better. Revenge can be a bitch, Lexa. Watch and learn."

"Incorrect," I shake my head. "Research shows that revenge adds to the distress of the victim-..."

" _That's_ my choice, Lexa!" Clarke was almost shouting. "I don't care what you think! I just want this to be over! I- Just-..." She was breathing heavily. I've seen this symptoms before with Raven or Octavia or in the movies or Tv shows or in the plane watching a movie.

There was a possibility that Shawn Gillmer was Clarke's father, in which case all three samples would test negative, and it would be too late for Clarke to wreak her revenge. I did not want to rely on that possibility.

I pressed the red button on the machine.

"What?" Clarke grabbed my forearm and stare at the machine dying down. "Why did you stop? Start it again, Lexa. I have the right to know!"

"Not if it causes suffering."

"Jus drein jus daun, right?" She asked, as if challenging me. " _Blood must have blood."_

I noticed her blue eyes were very glassy. Another symptom.

"No, Clarke," blocking her way from the machine. "Blood must  _not_  haveblood."

Clarke took a step back with as it seems to be in disbelief. "And here I thought you and I were on the same team. What happened Lexa? I thought you were on my side? What happened to  _Blood must have blood?_ Why suddenly change your mind?" She was clearly unhappy. And I was on the brink of watching her fall emotionally. Clarke wiped her tears away in an angry manner.

The project was meant to help the greater good. It was meant to showcase what Science can do for the society. This is my project of a life time. I never expected for Clarke to turn to vengeance.

"I didn't meant for you to turn this way," I said and it almost sounded like a whisper.

Clarke shoves her hair back and flung her arms helplessly, "So what? What about me then?" She shrugs. "Lexa,  _please_ I'm begging you. I have the  _right_ to know."

"I'm sorry, Clarke." I was feeling my behind hitting the edge of the table as Clarke advances. I could almost feel every nerve in my body throbbing. Weird.

"Don't you care about me?"

She was becoming too emotional. I felt very calm and yet, weirdly, spiked up. But that was behind now. Head is in control again. My thoughts were straight.

"I  _do_ care, Clarke. Enormously. So I can't contribute to you doing something immoral."

Clarke took one big step, almost bumping onto me. "Lexa, if you don't do the test, I'm  _never_ going to speak to you again.  _Ever._ "

This information was painful to process, but rationally entirely predictable.

"I'd assume that was inevitable," I said. "The project will be complete, and you've indicated no further interest in the sexual aspect."

Clarke eye brows raised, seemingly surprised. "So it's my fault?" She rolled her eyes again, "of course it's my fault." Flinging her arms in the air. "I'm not some prim and proper who don't touch a fucking cigarette every 5 minutes-... I'm not too  _organized."_

"I've deleted the non-drinking requirement," I realised she was referring to the Wife Project. But what was she saying? That she was evaluating herself according to the criteria of the Wife Project? Which meant-...

"You considered me as a partner?"

"Sure," she said. "Except for the fucking fact that you're ruled by a freaking whiteboard, no idea what is a social behavior is, and you're incapable of feeling love - you're _fucking_  perfect,Lexa."

She walked out, slamming the door behind her.

/////

I turned the machine on. Without Clarke in the room, I could safely test the samples and then decide what to do with them. Then I heard the door open again. I turned around, expecting to see Clarke. Instead it was Jaha.

"Professor Woods, working on your secret project again?" Jaha said.

I was in serious trouble. In all previous encounters with the Dean, I had been following the rules, or the infraction had been too minor to punish. Using the DNA machine for private purpose was a substantial breach of the Genetics Department regulations. How much does he know? He had not normally work on weekends. His presence was not an accident.

"Fascinating stuff, according to Professor Tristan," he said, laughing a little. "He came to my office and asks me about a project in my own faculty. One that apparently requires that we collect his DNA. As you do, I gather there was some sort of jokes involved. Pardon my lack of humor but I'm pretty such proposal should have gone through me and as well as the ethics committee."

Up to this point, Jaha had seemed cool and rational. Now he was raising his voice.

"I've been trying for two years to get to the medical faculty to fund a joint research project.. and had not only decide to behave greatly unethical but you  _just_ have to do it to the man who holds the purse strings. Lexa this is unacceptable!" Clearly, his expression was very much the worse that I had yet ever seen. I was about to say something when he cut me. "I want a written report. If it doesn't include an ethic approval that I somehow haven't seen yet, we'll be advertising an associate professor very soon."

Jaha stopped at the door and looks at me for a while.

"I'm still holding your complain about John Murphy. I would like you to think about that again. And I'll have your lab key, thank you. Lincoln will be in so much trouble because of this Professor Lexa. I hope you knew that before you started this mess."

Evidently, I knew that. I had processed the pros and cons before, or rather during the whole ordeal of the Father Project. I have to make my last stop.

Besides from the brink possibilities of Lincoln getting fired - the Father Project was over.

Officially.

/////

Raven came into my office the next day when I was about to complete an EPDS Questionnaire.

"Are you okay, Lexa?" She asked. This was a timely question.

"Perhaps. Perhaps not,"  I said. "You'll soon find out in 10 seconds."

I completed the questionnaire, and calculated the result, and showed it to Raven.

"16," I told her. "Second highest score ever."

Raven looked at it and frown. "Depression scale? Do I have to point out that you haven't had a baby recently? You do know that right? I mean I know you don't sway that way but-..."

"I didn't answer the baby-related questions. Optional. It was the only depression instrument that Octavia had at home when I-..."

"When Lexa the Great gone with the wind? Running for the hills? Abducted by aliens?"

I ignored her mockery. "I've continued using it for consistency."

"This is what we call 'getting in touch with our emotional self' is it?" Raven said.

I sensed that the question was rhetorical and still mockery,  I still ignored it.

"Listen, Lexa," she said. "I think you're gonna be very please. I may have an idea how to fix this."

"You have news from Clarke?"

Raven hit me on the head, "For Christsakes, Lexa! Can you stop thinking about Clarke for one second? I have news from the  _Dean._ I don't know what you've been up to lately, but DNA testing without ethical approval - that's 'career game over'. What were you thinking?"

Obviously, I knew this. I had decided to phone Gina Martin, the boss during the cocktail-making night, and asked her about the cocktail-bar partnership. It seemed like time to do something different. It had been a weekend of rude awakenings.

I had arrived home after the interaction with the Dean to find the Grounder housekeeper, had filled in a copy of the Wife Project questionnaire. On the front, she had written: 'Lexa, Nobody is perfect. You can't categorize woman like this.' In my state of heightened vulnerability, I had been extremely affected by this. The grounder cleaner was a good person whose short skirt were perhaps intended to attract a partner and who would have been embarrassed by her relatively low socio-economic status as she answered questions about post graduate qualifications and appreciate of expensive food.

I reflected on all the woman who took the questionnaire, hoping that they might fight a partner. With with deep hope that I might be their knight in shining armor or their warrior who would sweep them off of their feet - although, they did not know anything about me and would probably be disappointed if they did.

I had poured a glass of moscato and gone out to the balcony. The city lights reminded of the night of the salmon dinner with Clarke that, contrary to the prediction of the questionnaire, had been one of the most enjoyable meals of my life. Octavia had told me I was being too picky - which was normal for being a woman - but Clarke had demonstrated in Ark City that my assessment of what would makes me happy was totally incorrect. I sipped the white wine slowly and let the bitterly sweet taste play around in my mouth, and watched the city view change.

The traffic light turn red to green. The dancing naked man's window closed for the night. A man walking his dog. A woman hailing a cab. Clouds moving fast horizontally. And it dawned on me that I had not designed the questionnaire to find a woman I could accept, but to find someone who might accept  _me._

Regardless of what decisions I might make as a result of my experience with Clarke, I would not use the questionnaire again. The Wife Project was over.

Raven had more to say. "No job, no structure, no schedule. You'll fall apart, Lexa." Raven looks around the room and stares at my white board almost half empty. "Look, you're falling apart already. Lexa listen, I'm going to say that it was a collaboration with the history, genetics and engineering departments. I will get Lincoln to vouch for this too. We'll make up an ethic application, and you can say you thought it had been approved."

Raven was obviously doing her best to be helpful. She was nodding fast and looking straight into my eyes. It was the same technique that Octavia uses on her to make her agree on something so perpetually ridiculous. I smiled for her benefit.

"Does that take a few points off the score?" Raven said, tapping on the monitor.

"Perhaps not."

There was a silence. Neither of us apparently had anything to say. I expected Raven to leave. But she tried again and this time, she pulled onto my forearm.

"Come on, Lexa. Help me here. It's Clarke isn't it?"

I thought I heard a sloth machine's cascading coins down to the chute and blinding neon lights flashing 'JACKPOT'.

"It makes no sense," I said. 

"Okay, Let me get this straight," she continued. "You're unhappy that you've lost perspective on you career, your reputation, your holy grail of schedules.'

This was a fact.

"Dammit Lexa, you broke the fucking rules! Since when do you break rules?"

That was a good question. I respect rules. But in the last ninety-nine days, I had problems. I knew and had continued - no matter what rational state I was - to break so many rules, legal, ethical and personal. I knew exactly when it had started. The day Clarke walked into my office with her blonde hair - which as it turns out previously dyed red and was the guardian from a group children that were trying to learn about the human history - and I hacked into Trikru reservation system so I could go on a date with her.

"All of this trouble because of what? Of one woman?" Said Raven.

"Apparently," I said turning away. "It's totally irrational." I felt embarrassed. It was one thing to make a social error, another to admit that rationality had deserted me.

"It's only irrational if you believe in your questionnaire."

"The depression scale is highly accura-..."

"I'm talking about your 'Do you dye your hair?' or 'Do you eat kidney?' questions. I'd say you're losing Lexa."

"You consider the situation with Clarke to be the winning result?"

"You've gone through so much with Clarke. Don't you see it, Lexa? Don't you see the pattern?"

Raven was now leaning over my desk, as if she was pleading. I wasn't sure.

The pattern. Was it the elevated symptoms? The liveliness and snarky comments from the blonde woman. Or the unexplained  euphoria over unscheduled and destructive dinner at the balcony. Or the unexpected cocktail making event. Or the wildly embarrassing dance during the ball. Or the odd times I find her hand holding my mine. Or the night when we kissed.

The pattern. That was an odd remark.

"You have such way with your actions," Raven said. "If you want to be a bit more romantic about it, I'd say you were in love."

In love. I, Professor Alexandria Woods, In love. A woman who can't feel emotion during movies - Clarke greatly stunned over - was in love?

This was an extraordinary statement. But it also made sense. I had assumed that romantic love would always be outside my realms of expertise or more so, experience. But it perfectly accounted for my current situation. I wanted to be sure.

"This is your professional opinion? As an expert on human attraction?"

Raven nodded.

"Excellent." Raven's insight had transformed my mental state.

"Not sure how that helps...," Raven leaning back on the leather seat.

"Clarke identified three faults. Fault number one was that inability to feel love. There are only two left to rectify."

"Which is..."

"Social protocols and adherence to schedules. Trivial."

////

I've made an appointment with Octavia at the usual cafe to discuss social behavior. I realised that improving my ability to interact with other humans would require some effort and that my best attempt might not convince Clarke. But the skills would be useful in their own right.

I had, to some extent, become comfortable with being socially awkward. At school, I had been the unintended class clown - Lexia the red clown, and eventually, the intentional one. It was time to grow up.

The waitress approached our table. "You order," Octavia said.

"What would you like?"

"Cappuccino please. With no froth."

This is a ridiculous form of coffee - 'with no froth', it's like asking for ice water but with no ice, but I did not point it out. Octavia would surely have received the message from previous occasions and would not want it repeated. It would be annoying to her.

"I'd like two shots of espresso and my friend will have cappuccino with no froth, please. Thank you," I said.

Octavia was quite surprised. "Wow. Something definitely changed. This must be serious."

I pointed out that I had been successfully and politely ordering coffee all my life, but Octavia insisted that my mode of interaction had changed in subtle ways.

"I wouldn't have picked Ark City as the place to enhance refinement on your characteristic per se," said Octavia. "But there you go. Great job."

I told her that, on the contrary, people had been extremely friendly and polite. Even referencing my experience with Steve the Fat Baseball Fan, Callie the associate professor at psychiatry, Luna the Dean of Barrack, and the chef and the weird pierced guy from the Dropship.

I also mentioned that we had dined with the Vie's and was presented as a family friend to the Griffin's. Octavia's conclusion was simple. All this unaccustomed social interaction, plus Clarke's company, had dramatically improved my skills.

"You don't need to try with Raven and me, because you're not out to impress us or make friends with us."

While Octavia was right about the value of practice, I learn better from reading and observation. My next task was to download some educational material.

I decided to begin with romantic films specifically mentioned by Clarke. There were three: Casablanca, The Notebook and Titanic. I added When Harry Met Sally and also Wanheda for the figurative representation of historic Commander - Commander Lexa, whom Clarke had cited as the most bravest and sexiest commander that the world has ever known.

It took a full week to watch all five, including time for pausing the movie and taking notes. The films were incredibly useful, but also highly challenging. The emotional dynamics were so complex! I did the best I can to draw from the movies recommended by Octavia about male-female relationships with both happy and unhappy outcomes. She had mentioned that it is the same thing with Female-Female except that it'll be more  _emotional._

Octavia gave me an entire list she printed out from her google search and some were explicitly 'Mature' rated but she said, 'it's just for fun.'

Although her advice was to use it as an example of what  _not_ to do, I was impressed that the majority of the scenes that I found myself relating from - the main characters very well handled it with more finesse than I had. It was also encouraging that, despite serious social incompetence, a significant difference in age between two characters, probable multiple psychiatric disorders and a level of intolerance far more severe than mine, these main characters succeeded in winning the love of the woman in the end. An excellent choices of movies by Octavia.

Slowly but surely I began to make sense of it all. There were certain consistent principles of behavior in male-female romantic relationship that was adaptable to female-female relationship. Octavia was very useful in sending in suggested LGBT movies that she hopes that I could somehow relate to. I was yet again, on the grounds of social practices with Octavia.

We worked through some scenarios.

"This meal has a fault," I said. The situation was hypothetical. We were simply just drinking coffee. "That would be too confrontational, correct?"

Octavia nodded. "And don't say fault, or error. That's computer talk. Nobody will know what you're talking about. They'll be weirded out."

"Noted. But I can say, 'I'm sorry, it was an error of judgement, entirely my fault', Correct? That the used of 'fault' is acceptable?"

"Very good," Octavia laughed. "I mean yes, Lexa, this takes years to learn."

I didn't have years. Fortunately, I am a quick and was in human-sponge mode. I demonstrated.

"I'm going to construct an objective statement followed by a request for clarification, and preface it with a platitude: 'Excuse me. I ordered a rare steak. Do you have a definition of rare?'"

Octavia pursed her lips. "Good start, but the question's a little too straight forward. Too aggressive."

I modified the question. "Could you check that my order was processed correctly?"

Octavia nodded. But did not completely looked satisfied. I was paying great attention to expressions of emotion and I had diagnosed hers correctly.

"Lexa, I'm impressed. But... You do know that changing to meet someone else's expectations may not be a good idea. You may end up resenting it."

I didn't think this was likely. I was learning some new protocols, that was all. Techniques.

"If you really love someone," Octavia added. "you have to be prepared to accept them for what they are, how they are. Maybe you were... hoping that one day they'll wake up and make changes for their own reasons."

"Isn't that how it supposed to be?"

Octavia smiles but it's a sad one. That one was much easier to predict.

This last statement connected with fidelity rule that I had in my mind in the beginning of the discussion. I did not need to raise the subject now. I had the answer to my question. Eventhough, Raven and Octavia weren't together. Octavia still pictures Raven as this woman in her life. Wasn't my idea but it was put there by Octavia a year ago.

"Aren't you gonna tell her anything?" I said.

Octavia shifted a little on the sofa, a sign of discomfort. I read that too thanks to the Ark Investigation Documentary I watched few weeks ago prior to the Ark City trip.

"Tell her what?" Octavia said.

The technique was applied as to what Octavia taught me. Ask a question against another question to reflect the responsibility away from you.

"That you love her."

Octavia drank from her coffee and then answered, "I was drunk Lexa. It was one time. It doesn't mean anything."

"You knocked on my door 4am in the morning. You were crying. You said you love her."

"Of course, I do! She's my best friend. Of course I love her."

I shake my head. "That's not what you said."

"It doesn't matter what I said!" Octavia was angry now. I could sense it in her tone.

Silence follows afterwards. I wasn't sure if our social practice was still on going or should I leave the room and give Octavia space to breathe. It was always good to follow Raven's advice when it comes to Octavia.

"I'm sorry," she said. She looks around the cafe, not sure for what. "I- I just want to forget about it, Lexa. It was over a year ago. It was just a one time thing. I know I said some crazy and stupid shit about Raven. It won't happen anymore."

"Raven loves you." For a second I thought I saw Octavia almost smiling, but she wasn't.

"I wish she does, Lexa. But she doesn't." She was shaking her head and she seem to want to cry but didn't. "And she never will. I've came to a conclusion that this is how far we're gonna go."

Then I knew this things so called 'love' is more complex than a normal human life. It breaks and tears you apart. Just like what Mary said to Kimberly when Ethan - her best friend - didn't feel the same way as she did for him - I watched this on the movie called, 'Crossing the Line'. You are taking a risk. A risk that can either bring you happiness or grief.

Such a great way to get inspiration from the only 2 friends that I can rely on relationship advice.

I'm starting to learn sarcasm too.

/////

I organised a run with Raven for the following morning. I needed to speak to her in private, somewhere she could not escape. I started my personal lecture as soon as we were moving. My fundamental key points was that ignorance of ones emotion was totally unacceptable. I knew my benefits won't overweigh the hypocrisy of this morning lecture - I knew this might turn on me and a great risk of total disaster. Raven had been on a one long relationship before however due to infidelity it didn't last longer. Might be a contributor of Raven's continuous love affairs.

Raven interrupted, breathing heavily. In my effort to get the message across  unambiguously and forcefully, I had been running fast than normal. Raven is significantly less fit than I am and my fat-burning low-heart-rate jogs are major cardiovascular workouts for her.

"I hear you," She said. "What've you been reading? Or watching? I heard Octavia gave you a list to watch."

I told her about the movies I've been watching, and their idealised representation of acceptable and unacceptable behavior. Raven and Octavia owned a dog - Fish - it would be in serious danger from a disgruntled relationship. Raven seems to be confused at first, not about Fish, but about the impact of her behavior in relation to Octavia.

"What  _exactly_ are you talking about Lexa?" said Raven. "You lost me there for a second."

I may have an idea that Raven is still oblivious of Octavia's intimate emotion for her. Despite, living under one roof and their years of being best friends - perhaps, the line had blurred along the way unknowingly.

I talked about the oblivious feelings of the main characters from 'Crossing the Line' and relate it to Raven and Octavia's situation - to make it more relatable. And Raven laughed.

"Why are you telling me this, Lexa? I don't have a problem sensing if someone likes me. You know who got  _that_ problem? Not me. But  _you."_ She pointed onto my chest. "Fucking hilarious. How long have Octavia and I told you to be sensitive with your surroundings? Sense what other people around you feel. Clarke sure had a hard time with you."

And there it goes. Backfired.

"I'm not the only one, Raven." I said.

Raven narrowed her eyes at me. Shakes her head a little. "What are you getting at Woods?" I stayed silent. "Spill."

I repeated the lesson learned from 'Crossing the Line' - the unrequited love between two best friends. She represented me the opportunity to give her evidence and I did without interruption. Raven was staring at me, heaving heavily with gap lips. I finished by pointing out that if she loves Octavia, she should therefore, be prepared to make all necessary sacrifices.

"Stop referencing Crossing the Line. Since when are we expected to behave like characters in chick flicks?" Raven said. "Octavia and I are fine. We love each other. She's my best friend and my soulmate. We're happy, Lexa. Thanks for the concern. You should be more focusing on your own set of problems with Clarke."

"And I am doing that," I said, feeling a little irritated now. "Octavia was-..."

"Octavia and I are fine!" Raven was angry now. She calmed down a little bit before looking back at me. "We're fine." She repeated, calmer.

"No, you're not."

"How the hell do you know, huh? Did Octavia tell you something?" I remained silent. "Just as I thought. You know what's your problem is Woods, you're head is too big. You think you're smarter than everyone else when you can't even see your own faults. And now you're parading here as if you know a shit what Octavia and I had gone through. Hell you don't! So before you point your fucking finger on who got the huge fucking problem...," She pointed again on my chest. "Let's see you try changing your habits of a lifetime."

Raven turns back around and ran back where we came from.

//////

I had thought of eliminating my schedule would be relatively straightforward. I had just spent days without it and while I had faced numerous problems they were not related to inefficiency or unstructured time. But I had not factored in the impact of the enormous amount of turmoil in my life. As well as the uncertainty with Clarke, the social - skills project and the fear the my best friends were on the path to destruction, I was about to lose my job. The schedule of activities felt like the only stable thing in my life.

In the end, I made a compromise that would definitely be acceptable to Clarke. Everyone keeps a timetable of their regular commitments, in my case lectures, meetings and martial-art classes. I would allow myself these. I would put appointments in my diary, 'as other people would', but reduce stadardisation. Things could change by the weekly basis. Reflection and reviewing would be necessary to be keep on track, most especially when making decisions. And I can see the abandonment of the Standardised Meal System, the aspect of my schedule that creates the most comment, was the only item on the list that requires immediate action.

My next market visit was predictably strange. I arrived at the seafood stall and the seller automatically pulls out a fresh salmon from the tank.

"Change of plan," I said. "What's good today?"

"What?" The seller was evidently stunned. "Salmon are good on Tuesdays for you." He laughed and waved his hands to the other customers. He was obviously making a joke about me. Clarke had an expression that says, 'don't fuck with me.' I tried to replicate it, it seemed to work by itself.

"I'm joking," he said. "Lobsters are fresh. Very good today. Clams. You eat oysters?"

I ate oysters, though I had never prepared them at home before. I ordered them unshucked as quality restaurants promoted their oysters as being freshly shucked.

I arrived home with a selection of food not associated with any particular recipe. The oysters proved challenging, I could not get a knife in to open them without risking injury to my hand through slippage. I could have looked up the techniques on Mr. Google - as Clarke would say it - but it would have taken time. This was why I had a schedule based around familiar items.

I could prepare the salmon even with my eyes closed while my brain worked on historic research I've done on that day. What was wrong with standardization? Another oyster failed to provide an opening for my knife. I was getting annoyed and about to throw the full dozen in the bin when my eyes caught the sight of the microwave. A light bulb flicked on.

I took one and placed it inside the microwave and heated it for a few seconds. It opened easily. It was warm and delicious. I tried a second, this time adding a squeeze of lemon juice and a grind of pepper. Fantastic! I could feel the entire world opening up to me. I hoped the oyster were sustainable because I wanted to share my new skills with Clarke.

/////

My mind is programmed now on self-improvement, which meant that I had little time to consider and respond to the Dean's threat of dismissal. I had decided not to take up Raven's offer to construct an alibi; now that the breach of rules was in my conscious mind, it would be a violation of my personal integrity to compound the error. 

With great effort of brain caliber, I succeeded in suppressing thoughts of my professional future, but could not stop the Dean's parting comment about John Murphy and my plagiarism complaint from intruding into my conscious mind. After much deliberation, I concluded that Jaha is not offering an unethical deal: 'Withdraw the complaint and you can keep your job.' What he said was bothering me because I had myself broken the rules in pursuing the Father Project. Raven had once told me a historic joke when I questioned the morality of her behavior. With my huge understanding of history, Raven took upon herself to 'extract' a scenario to make me understand the situation and perhaps 'the joke' as well. 

The Commander address the angry crowd who are stoning the accused murderer: 'Let he who had not done a sin cast the first cut.' The Commander addressed the mob that everyone had sinned and  _none_ of them were saints. Then a knife flew in the air and went straight to the accuse's chest. The Commander turns around and said, 'sometimes you really pisses me off, Charlotte.' 

I could no longer be equated with the Commander's own self - beliefs. She was once a strong warrior that believes in revenge and 'blood must have blood'. But with a huge turn of event, 'love' came to her life in a form of Wanheda and everything turned upside down - 'blood must have no blood'. 

I had been corrupted. I was like everyone else. My stone casting credibility had been significantly compromised. 

I summoned John Murphy to a meeting in my office. After much thorough investigation, I found out he was from a troubled background - with a drunk mother and ran away father. I could sense the relatability of Clarke's situation. He aged approximately 28 (estimated BMI 19). I interpreted his expression and demeanor as nervous. 

I had his essay, partly and entirely written by his tutor, in my hand and showed it to him. I asked him a simple and obvious question: Why had he not written it himself?

He averted his eyes - which I interpreted as a cultural respect to the elders rather than of shiftiness - but instead of answering my question, he started to explain the consequences of his probably expulsion. He had a wife - who had  a hand condition and a mother to take care of, and had not told them about the problem yet. He had hoped that one day that with his studies he'll be able to help his wife and his mother to be in a better circumstances. His unwise behavior would mean the end of his dreams and those of his wife and mother who had been suffering for far too long. He started crying. 

In the past, I would have regarded this as sad but irrelevant. A rule had been broken. But now I was also a rule-breaker. I had not broken the rules deliberately, or at least not with any conscious thought. Perhaps Murphy's behavior had been similarly unconsidered. 

I asked Murphy, 'What are the principal arguments of high technological advances against the primitive historical value?' The essay had been on the ethical and legal issues raised by advances in human history. He seemed to have a good knowledge of the topic. 

'Then why didn't you write it yourself?' I asked. 

'I love history, Professor Woods. But I was not confident in writing and I was on a predicament during the those times. I wanted to make sure that I will not fail. I wasn't thinking properly. Please give me another chance." 

I did not know how to respond to Murphy. Acting without thinking was anathema to me and I did not want to encourage it in the future historians. Nor did I want my own weaknesses to affect a correct decision regarding Murphy. I would pay for my own error in this regard, as I deserved to. But losing my job would not have the same consequences for me as expulsion would for Murphy. I doubt he would be offered a potentially lucrative partnership in a cocktail bar as an alternative. 

I thought for a quite a long time. Murphy took the liberty to sit down. He must have realized that I was considering some form of responsibility. But I was incredibly uncomfortable to make this kind of decisions, especially with the current state of mind. Is this how the Dean had been handling his everyday work? I suddenly felt some respect for him. 

There was no confidence that I would solve the problem in a short period of time. But I realized that it would be unfair to leave Murphy wondering about if his life had been destroyed. 

'I understand...,' I said, and realized that this was not a phrase I was accustomed to using when talking about people. I stopped the sentence and thought for a moment longer. 'I will create a supplementary task - probably an essay on personal ethics. As an alternative to expulsion.' 

I interpreted Murphy's expression as ecstatic. 

//////

I was conscious that there was more to social skills than knowing how to order coffee and being faithful or at the very least be fair and sensitive with your potential partner. Since my school days, I had selected my clothes without regard to fashion. I started out not caring how I looked and choose whatever I feel comfortable with, then it was soon discovered that people found what I wore amusing. I enjoyed being seen as someone not tied to the norm of society. I enjoyed being myself. But now I had no idea how to dress.

I asked Octavia to buy me some suitable clothes. She proven her expertise as the best option for me even with fine slacks, blouse or a knee high laced dress, but she insisted on me accompanying her. 

'Lexa, I may not be around forever to do this for you,' Octavia said. After some reflection time, I concluded that she was not talking about death, but about something more immediate: best friend failure! Just the other day, she was already thinking about moving apartment on the other side of the city! I had to find a way to convince Raven of the danger. 

The actual shopping took a full morning. We went to several shops, acquiring shoes, dresses, blouses and even a pair lingerie.

I had more shopping to do, but I did not require Octavia's help. A photo and video was sufficient to specify my requirements. I visited the optometrists, the hair dresser (for the first time) and the make up shop. Everyone was extremely helpful. 

My schedule and social skills had now been brought into line with conventional practice, to the best of my ability within the time I had allocated. The Lexa Project was complete! It was time to commence the Clarke Project. 

////

There was wall mirror behind the door in the office that I hardly used before. Now I used it to review my appearance. I expected I would have only one chance to cut through Clarke's negative view of me and produce an emotional reaction. 

I wanted Clarke Griffin to fall in love with me. 

Protocol dedicated that I should not wear an inappropriate face make up on the school ground, but I decided that the PhD students area could be considered as a lay low environment where many creative students lounge all day long. On that basis, it would be acceptable. I checked the mirror again. Clarke had been right. With my long sleeves - V neck and fitted tight black jeans with boots, with my hair half down braided and the famous black war paint around my eyes, I could be mistaken for Commander Lexa from the great human history. The bravest and  _sexiest_ Commander that the world had ever known. 

Clarke was at her desk. So was Bellamy, looking unruly as always with his curly hair covering his eyes. I had my speech prepared. 

"Pleasant Afternoon, Bellamy." Bellamy must have been shocked as I've interpreted. Good I've made an expression. 

"Hi, Clarke. Clarke, I'm afraid it's a short notice but I was wondering if you'd join me for dinner this evening. There's something I'd like to share with you."

Neither spoke. Clarke looked a little stunned. I looked at her directly and flash a smile. 

"Lexa... You're- You're face... You're Commander Lexa..." Good. Clarke saw the reference. 

'That's a charming pendant," I said, looking down on her chest area. Clarke was silent again and staring at me. I could not wait any longer and I have other agendas unfinished. "I'll pick you up at 8pm."

I was shaking as I walked away, but I had given it my best effort.

Gerard Butler from The Ugly Truth would have been proud of me. 


	14. The Clarke Project

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi Guys,  
> First thing first, I have to apologize for the miscommunication for the last post I did. A lot of you were commenting that I was just playing around or something. But I was actually trying to do something new for my next story after everything is done. 
> 
> But don't you worry! I have the next update right here and I hope you guys enjoy!  
> Cheers!

I had two more visits before my evening date with Clarke. 

I walked straight past The Cute Monty Green and into Raven's office. Raven was in her room examining - what it seems like - a small missile and on her computer screen was a picture of a European girl who was not conventionally attractive. I recognized the format - She's a Wife Project Applicant. Place of Birth - Iceland.

Raven was now stroking the small missile and when she found me staring at the computer screen - she frowned. My Commander Lexa costume was without a doubt unexpected but appropriate for my mission. 

"Hi Raven."

There's a definite sign that Raven was taken aback. "What's with the 'Hi, Raven'? What happened to 'Greetings - Earthlings'?" She said with a peace sign - I assume she's mocking me. 

I explained to that I had eliminated a number of unconventional mannerism from my vocabulary. 

"So I've heard," Raven said putting down the missile and crossing her arms. I can sense the look that she was giving me - she must be still thinking of our previous altercation. 

"Raven-..."

"You didn't think your regular mentor was up to the job?" She said. 

"What do you mean?"

"Me, Lexa." She pointed to herself. "I'm talking about me."

This was correct. Feedback from Clare had prompted me to reassess Raven's social competence, and my recent work with Octavia and the movie marathon had confirmed my suspicion that her skills applied to a limited realm, and that she was not employing them in the best interests of herself and - coincidely, Octavia. 

"No," I told her. "I wanted advice on socially appropriate behavior."

Raven scoffed and I assumed, quite offended. I'm getting better at reading emotions. 

"What? What's that supposed to mean?" 

"Clearly, you're similar to me. That's why you're my best friend. Hence, this invitation."

There had been great deal of preparation for this day. I gave Raven an envelope. She did not open it but continued the conversation. 

"I'm like  _you?_ No offence, Lexa, but  _your_ behavior - your  _old_ behavior - was out of this world. If you want my opinion, you hid behind a persona that you thought people found amusing. It's hardly surprising people saw you as a... Goof."

This was exactly my point. But Raven was not making the connection. As her _gal pal_ , it was my duty to behave as an adult female and give it to her straight. 

I walked over to her table and pointed at the picture frame of her and Octavia, with smiles so bright. Raven was confused. Then I pointed with my other hand at the map of the world, with a pin for every conquest. I looked at it with a hope would be for the last time. Then I stabbed both things with my fingers, to create an atmosphere of threat. 

"Exactly, Raven," I said. "You think people see you as a Casanova. Well guess what, if you want to know, the entire campus think you're a jerk. And they're right, Raven. You're a fucking grown ass woman with great career and a woman who clearly loves you, though for how much longer - I don't know. Time you grew up, Raven. I'm telling you that as a friend."

It wasn't my intention to cuss when I first thought of visiting Raven in her office, but things has to be done. I watched Raven's face, despite getting better at reading emotions, this was a complex one. Rattled, I think. 

"So is that why you're here? To blow it up to my face." She said. She looked down on the picture frame and obviously enough, her face color seems to change. I can sense deep anger. " _Leave_."

It wasn't my intention to provoke this anger, but I was relieved. The basic woman-woman tough advice protocol had been effective. It was fortunate that it had not been necessary to pull each other's hair - like from the reality show _The Real Housewives of Jersey Shore_. 

/////

I went back to my office and changed from my Commander Lexa costume into my new black silk dress. Octavia mentioned that it will boost up my confidence and I need to put Silicon Stick-On Bra. Now I understood why, half of my chest is showing with the deep 'V' neck line. I have erased my War Paint and put on make-up. 

Then I made a phone call. The assistant was not prepared to make an appointment for a personal matter, so I booked an engineering evaluation for my previous projects with Jacky Boy, Clarke's potential father, for 4pm. 

As I turn around to leave, Jaha knocked and walked in. He signalled for me to follow him. This was not part of my plan, but today was an appropriate day to close this stage of my professional life. 

We went to his office, not speaking. It seemed that our conversation needed to take place in a formal setting. I felt uncomfortable, which was a rational response to the almost-certain prospect of being dismissed from a tenured position at a prestigious university for professional misconduct. 

But I already suspected this and my feelings came from a different source. The scenario triggered my memory from my first week at high school, of being sent to the principal's office as a result of allegedly inappropriate behavior. The disciplinary action of rigorous interrogation of our religious education teacher. In hindsight, I understood that she was well-meaning person, but she used her position of power over a 13 years old to cause me considerable distress. 

The principal was, in fact, reasonably symphatetic, but warned me to I needed to show 'respect'. But he was too late: as I walked to his office I had made the decision that it was pointless to try to fit in. I would be the class' Red Clown for the next following years of my high school life. 

I had thought about this event very often. At the time my decision felt like a rational response based on my assessment of the new environment, but in retrospect I understood that I was driven by anger at the power structure that suppressed my arguments. 

Now as I walked to the Dean's office another thought occurred to me. What if the teach had a been a brilliant theologian, with thousands of years of knowledge about religion? She would have had more compelling arguments than a 13 years old girl. Would I had been satisfied? I suspect not. As a historian researcher, with an allegiance to scientific thinking, I would have had a deep-seated feeling that I was being, as Clarke would say, mind-fucked. Was that how Faith Believer aka The Skinny Boy had felt?

Had the struggled demonstration been an instance of bullying as horrifying as the one committed by my religious education teacher,  _even though I was right?_

As we entered the Dean's office for what I expected to be the last time, I took notice of his full name on the door and a minor confusion was resolved. Professor Thelinious Jaha. I had never thought of him as a 'Charlie,' it is very far off from his name to be his nickname - majority would prefer 'Theo' - but presumably Professor Tristan did. 

We entered is office and sat down. 

"I see we're in our... cocktail clothes," he said. "I'm sorry you didn't seem fit to grace us with them during your time here."

Sarcasm. I did not respond.

"So. No report. No explanation, professor Lexa?" He continued. 

Again, I could not think of any appropriate to say. Tristan appeared at the door. Clearly this had been orchestrated. The Dean - Charlie - waved him in.

"You can save time by explaining to Tristan and me together. Isn't that wonderful?"

It is not wonderful. 

Tristan was carrying the documents that I had given him. 

At this point, the Dean's personal assistant Byrne, who was not objectified by having the words 'The Cute' included in her name, entered the room. 

"Sorry to disturb, professor," She said, ambigiously, as all of us are professors, for the next few minutes at least, but the context made it clear she was addressing Jaha. "I've got a problem with your booking at Trikru. They seem to have taken you off the VIP list."

The Dean's face registered as annoyed but he waved Byrne away. 

Tristan smiled at me. "You couldn't just sent me this," he said, referring to the documents. "No need for the idiot-savant impression. Which I have to concede was beautifully done. As is the proposal. We'll need to run it by the ethics guys, but it's exactly what we're looking for. History, Medicine  _and_ Engineering, create combination, I think this will be a big shot, Charlie. We're both get publicity."

I attempted to analyse Jaha's expression. It was beyond my current skill set. 

"So congratulations, Charlie," Said Tristan. "You've got your joint research project. The Medical Research Institute is prepared to put in four million, which is more than the budget actually specifies, so you're set to go." Then he pointed at me. "Hang on to this one, Charlie. She's a dark horse. And I need her to be part of the project."

I got my first real return on my investment in improved social skills. I had worked out what was going on. I did not ask a silly question. I did not put the Dean in a position of unbearable embarrassment. Raven had complied to her set of conditions. She made the proposed documents and sent it over to Tristan. How did she know about Tristan? I don't know, but for sure, Raven always finds a way. I was been saved and I did not caused myself embarrassment. I just nodded and walked back to my office. 

Jacky Boy had blue eyes. I knew this but it was the first thing I noticed. He was in his mid-fifties, about 20 centimeters taller than me, powerfully built and extremely fit-looking. I was standing by the reception area of his small office at Jake and Co. On the wall were newspaper cuttings from their company achievements and as well as martial arts headlines - depicting Jacky Boy on the picture with a medal around his neck. I realised this office more personalised than usual office are - behind the reception table were lined up plaques of achievements. If I had been a medical student without martial arts skill, I would have thought carefully before having sex with this man's girlfriend. 

"Get the prof some gear and get his signature on a waiver form."

I was as puzzled as the woman behind the counter was. 

"It's just an engineering consultation." I said. 

"Is that what you were really here for, Professor Lexa?" He said, strapping on his gloves. I realized he was wearing unconventionally for office work - a boxing short and a white shirt. "New consultation procedure starts today."

"I don't need gloves."

"Heck you do, unless you wanna fight me with bare hands. I'm afraid to scar your knuckles."

I was taken aback. "Fight you? I'm here for  _engineering_ consultation, Jacky Boy. I don't know how to fight."

Jacky Boy laughed. "Not from what I've heard from Raven. I'll meet you in the ring in 5 minutes. Sienna, grab some boxing attire for Professor Lexa." Then he looked at me. "5 minutes, Prof."

I was bewildered because:-

  1. I don't know what I've got myself into this time. 
  2. I don't know where the 'ring' is. But I presume its down the stairs where Jacky Boy walked to.
  3. This will include perspiration which further leads to taking 5 minutes and 44 seconds to fully shower. I do not have time to spare.



I changed to sports singlet and shorts, which smelled freshly laundered, and Sienna helped me put on my boxing gloves. I had only done the occasional boxing workout, but I was not afraid of getting hurt. I had a good defensive techniques if necessary. I was more interested in talking. 

Sienna showed me the to the ring and saw Jacky Boy already perspiring from his workout. 

"Let's see you hit me, Prof," he challenged. 

I threw some gentle punches which Jacky blocked. 

"Come on, Prof," he said. "Is that the best you can do? Show me your moves! Hurt me. Come on, just because you're a woman don't think I'll go easy on you. I know you can fight, Lexa."

Jacky Boy seemed to getting comfortable as he subtly drop the 'professor'. 

_He asked for it._

"Clarke is trying to locate her real father because he's dissatisfied with her stepfather."

Jacky dropped his guard. Very poor form. I took the opportunity and punched him right on his jaw. He landed hard on his buttocks and stares at me as if his terrified. 

"Stepfather?" He said. "What- What are you talking about Lexa? Is that why you're here? This is about Clarke?"

He stood up and threw a hard punch, and I had to use a proper block to avoid being hit. He recognized it and tried a hook. I blocked that too and counter punched. He avoided it nicely. 

"Since it's unlikely she'll succeed, we need to fix the problem." I said. 

Jacky threw a hook on my abdomen. I stepped out quickly. 

"And what does it got to do with me?" He said. "With Jake Griffin? Who built his own engineering business and gym, who works 24 hours a day, who plenty of woman still think not enough to be there better half because I'm not some fucking doctor or a lawyer?"

He threw a combination and I attacked back. I thought there was a probability that I could take him down, and simultaneously, get the information that I need. 

"It's none of your business if I were in her school awardings, cheerleading competition, volunteered individual for some high school fund-raising event-..."

"Obviously, these achievements were insufficient, " I said. "Perhaps Clarke requires something in addition to discreetly watching over her."

In a moment of clarity, I realized that Jacky Boy was speaking through his experience. His effort. At the same time, I realised was my self-attempts for improvement in vain? I did all this changes in my life but never touched the most important reason why. Was I going to end up like Jack Boy, trying hard to subtly watch over Clarke but not get too close enough to cross path. Another realization came to mind, was Jacky Boy confessing that he's Clarke's father? I need to get to the bottom of this  _with_ concrete proof. 

Fighting and contemplation was not compatible. Jacky Boy's punch took me in a dizzy moment, but I managed to step back and reduce force, but went down. Jacky Boy stood over me, angry. 

"Maybe one day she'll know everything. Maybe that'll help, maybe it won't." He shook his head hard, as though he was the who had taken a punch. "Did I ever stopped watching over her? I've lost the most important person in my entire life cause I wasn't good enough! I did all the things - that I could possibly can to make sure that she's in safe hands."

I sat up and shouted. I was angry too. "You weren't there for her when her mother died! You left her alone with an incompetent stepfather!"

I swung my leg across the ring, bringing him down. He didn't fall straight away, so I swung my leg again and he fell face flat. His nose was bleeding badly and there was blood all over my singlet. 

"Her mother died, Jacky Boy!" I shouted. "Kane promised to bring her to City of Light but he didn't! She was devastated, didn't you know that?"

We struggled on the mat and pinned him down.

"City of Light?" He scoffed. "She was 10!"

"She told everyone at school. It's still a major problem besides from losing  _both_ of her biological parents."

He tried to break free, but I managed to hold him, despite the impediment of the bocing gloves. 

"You wanna know why I wasn't there all these years? Why Clarke had no fucking idea I exist? Because of her selfish mother! She told me she was pregnant, I was ready to give myself to her, to raise  _our_ baby but she said I wasn't good enough! Because I'm not some doctor or a fucking lawyer or a politician. I'm just an engineer who happens to be the bloody photographer on their graduation night. Now, Marcus came to the picture I thought Clarke would have great life. Successful old Marcus Kane - everybody adores him."

"Not everyone," I said. "Not Clarke."

I let go of him and he laid there helplessly. 

It was a reasonable explanation, despite the displayed inferiority. I wished this information had been provided prior to me pinning down Clarke's self-declared father on the ground with blood pouring from his nose. 

"I bought her a wrist watch so that when she grow older she'll get something to remember me by. I didn't think Abby gave it to her. I heard she destroyed it-..."

"She have a necklace."

His face depicts confusion. 

"A necklace with a gear for a pendant." I continued. "I should have realized it sooner that it's a part of a watch mechanism. Abby must have took a piece of it and hang it around Clarke's neck. I always see her wearing it. She emotionally attached to it." The last statement was vague, there was never a conversation that Clarke was emotionally attached to it. But the expression on Jacky Boy's face was pure relief. 

"Being invisible to someone life is difficult." I said. 

"Amen to that," He said. "Can we get up?"

His nose was still bleeding and was probably broken, so it was reasonable request. But I was not prepared to let him go yet. 

"Not until we solve the problem."

/////

It had been a very full day but the most critical task was still ahead. I examined myself in the mirror. I'm showered, freshly perfumed, face full make-up with smokey eyes and with no glasses. The cocktail dress looks very elegant. 

I put the important envelope and the small box in my purse. As I phoned for a taxi, I looked at my whiteboard. The schedule, now written in erasable marker, was a sea of red writing - my code for the Clarke Project. I told myself that the changes it had produced were worthwhile, even if tonight I failed to achieve the final objective. 

/////

The taxi arrived and we made a quick stop over at the flower shop. I had not been inside this flower shop - or indeed purchased flowers at all - since Titus' funeral. The vendor came out of the back and recognized me as her regular cake buyer. 

"Lexa? What a surprise!" The cake baker grins. 

"I thought you were selling cake," I said. 

"Still am! But my sister needed help with the shop so I help her from time to time. What can I get my loyal customer this time? Is it for some special lady?" 

I smiled because it is. 

After I purchased a half a dozen long-stemmed tulips bouquet that the bake insisted me on buying which I was convinced that it is suitable for Clarke's personality, the baker continued to have a conversation with me. She then took a one stalk of red rose and gave it to me. 

"Give it to her at the end of your evening. It'll a very romantic gesture."

Seeing Titus' cake baker brought back his memories. I wished he was still alive to meet Clarke. 

I tried to phone Clarke as the taxi approached her apartment building, but there was no answer. She was not outside when we arrived, and most of the bell buttons did not have names on them. There was a risk that she had declined my invitation. 

It was cold and I was shaking from such revealing dress. I waited for 10 minutes, then called again. There was still no answer and I was about to instruct the taxi driver to leave when she came running out. I reminded myself that it was I who had changed and not Clarke. I should have expected Clarke to be late. She was wearing a black dress that matches with mine. It stunned me of how beautiful she was just like the No Dress Code Disaster. I gave her the tulips. I read her expression as surprised. 

Then she looked at me. 

"I've looked different, Lexa. I-...," Said Clarke. "I can't even... Wow... Really different again. What happened?"

"I decided to reform myself, Clarke." I liked the sound 're-form'. We got in the taxi, Clarke was still holding the tulips, and traveled to the restaurant in silence. I was looking for information about her attitude towards me, and thought it best to let her speak first. In fact she didn't say anything until she noticed that the taxi was stopping outside Trikru - the scene of the No Dress Code incident. 

"Lexa, Is this a joke?" She said. "You're kidding me right?"

I paid the driver, exited the taxi and opened Clarke's door. She stepped out but was reluctant to proceed, clutching the tulips against her chest. 

"You're safe," I said, guiding her with my hand behind her back towards the door where the security personnel who had encountered the previous altercation stood. 

He recognized Clarke immediately, as evident by his greeting. "Clarke."

"Finn."

Then he looked at me. "So you're really dating this woman."

" _Finn."_ Clarke's tone of voice was with warning. 

"Of course," Finn smiles before addressing me. "Ma'am?"

"Good evening, Finn. " I took Clarke's flowers and gave them to him for safe keeping. " We have a reservation in the name of Woods. Would you be kind enough to look after there?" It was standard combination of words but very confidence boosting. The look on Finn's face says it all. Everyone seemed very comfortable now that we were behaving in a predictable manner. The receptionist checked the reservation list. I took the opportunity to smooth over any remaining difficulties and made a small talk. 

"My sincere apologies for the misunderstanding last time. There shouldn't be any difficulties tonight. Unless they overchill the white wine!" I smiled. 

Finn smiled tightly and seemed to be looking uncomfortable and kept glancing back at Clarke. "Of course, Ma'am."

A male waiter appeared and escorted us to our reserved seat. I ordered a bottle of white wine to start the evening. Clarke seemed to be adjusting. 

The sommelier appeared with the bottle of wine and seemed to be looking around for help. 

"It's um at 13 degrees but if ma'am would like it less chilled... or more chilled..."

"That will be fine. Thank you," I said. 

He poured the drink and placed the bottle on the ice bucket before making a quick leave. Then the waiter appeared again and formally introduced himself. 

"Ms Woods, Ms Griffin, my name is Craig and I'm the head waiter. If there's anything you need, or anything that's a problem, just ask for me."

"Deeply appreciated, Craig."

Craig made a quick gesture and more waiters started introducing themselves at our table. Either this restaurant has a culture or deliberately chose to do so as a point of being given more personal treatment. I guessed the latter - I was probably marked as a dangerous person. Good. I would need all the support I could get tonight. 

Craig handed us menus. 

"I'm happy to leave it to the chef," I said. "But no meat, and seafood only if it's sustainable."

Craig smiled. "I'll speak to the chef and see what he can do."

"I realize it's a little tricky, but my friend lives by some quite strict rules," I said. 

Clarke gave me a strange look. My statement was intended to make a small point, and I think it succeeded. She tried her wine and buttered a bread roll. I remained silent. 

After 4 minutes, she finally spoke. 

"Alright, Commander Lexa. What are we doing first? The easy-breezy story or the big as revelation?"

This was good. Clarke was prepared to discuss things directly. In fact, directness was always been one of Clarke's positive attributes, though on this occasion she had not identified the most important topic. 

"I'm in your hands," I said. Standard polite method for avoiding a choice and empowering the other person. 

Clarke rolled her eyes, "Lexa, stop it. You know who my father is, right? It's the table-napkin man, isn't it?"

"Maybe," I said. Despite the positive outcome of the meeting with the Dean, I did not have my lab key back yet. And more so, after the aggressive talk with Jacky Boy, I need a concrete proof. "That isn't what I want to share."

Clarke nodded. "Alright then. Here's what we're gonna do. You share your thing; tell me who my father is; tell me what on Earth you've done to yourself; then we both go home."

I couldn't put a name to her tone of speech and expression, but it was clearly negative. She took a sip of her wine.

"Sorry. I-...," she shakes her head. "Go on. The sharing thing. Just get this over with."

I had great doubts about the likely outcome of my next move, but there were no possible plan. I had sourced my speech on 'Wanheda'. It resonated best with me and with the situation, and had the additional link to our happy time in Ark City. I hoped Clarke's brain would make that connection, ideally subconsciously. I drank the remainder of my drink. Clarke's eyes follows my glass, then she looked up at me. 

"Are you okay, Lexa?"

"I asked you tonight because once you realized you want to spend your life with someone, you want your life to start as soon as possible. You've got nothing to fear from me, Clarke. I trust you."

I studied Clarke's expression carefully. I diagnosed flabbergasted. 

"Lexa-..."

"Can't you see, Clarke? Every step I have taken, since I stepped inside that history lecture, was to bring me closer to you."

I could see that Clarke could not place the line from the  _Memoirs of a Geisha_ since I've altered the line that is deemed appropriate. She looked confused. 

"Lexa, What are you.... Oh my god, what have you done to yourself?"

"I've made some changes."

"Big changes. That's for sure!"

"Whatever behavioral modification you require from are trivial price to pay for having you as my life partner."

Clarke made a downward movement with her hand, which I could not interpret. Then she looks around the restaurant and I followed her eyes. All eyes were on us. Even Craig stopped half way with his tray high up. I realized that in my intensity I had raised my voice. I didn't care. 

"You are the world's most perfect woman that I've ever met. Other women are permanently blocked. No botox. No liposuction. No aesthetic modification will be required."

I heard someone from the back clapping. It was a group of elderly ladies by the window cheering for me. 

Clarke took a drink from her wine, then spoke in a very measured way. "Lexa, I don't know what to- to say-... Hell, I don't know where to start. I don't even know who's asking me - the old Lexa or the new Lexa."

"There's no old or new Lexa. It's just behavioral changes. Social conventions. Glasses and better clothes. 

Clarke touched her hair and slowly brush it down. "Lexa...," She said. Then grabbed my hand across the table. "I like you, Lexa. Okay? I genuinely do. Forget what I said outing my father. You're probably right. I really  _really_ like you. I love being around. Having fun. All of our adventures. Fuck...," she was shaking her head and retrieves back her hand. "But you should know, that I couldn't eat Salmon Carbonara every Tuesday. Right?"

"All is forgotten. I've abandoned the Standardized Meal System. I've deleted 46% of my schedule, excluding sleep. I've burned my old shirts and eliminated all of the things you didn't like. If you require more changes from me I will make it happen. I'm being submissive to you, Clarke."

"You've- You've changed yourself for me?" Clarke was clearly stunned. 

"Only my behavior."

Clarke was silent for awhile, obviously processing the new information. 

"Lexa... You can't-.... You can't just  _do_ that."

"I will do anything for you, Clarke. I can't lose you."

"I need a minute to think," she said. I automatically started the timer on my phone. Suddenly Clarke started laughing. I looked at her, understandably puzzled at this outburst in the middle of a critical life decision.

"The timer," she said. " 'I need a minute' and you start timing. Lexa is not dead! Alleluia!"

I waited. 

I looked at my phone and when there's 10 seconds left, I assessed that it was likely that she was about to say no. I had nothing to lose. I pulled the ring I had from my purse and opened it to reveal the ring I had purchased. I wished I had not learned to read expressions, because I could read Clarke's now and I knew the answer. 

"Lexa," She said. "This isn't what you want me to say. But-..." She leaned closer as if penetrating this wall between us. "But remember in the plane, when you said you were wired differently?"

I nodded. I knew what was the problem. The fundamental problem of who I was. I had pushed it to the back of my mind since it had surfaced in the fight with Jacky Boy. Clarke didn't need to explain. But she did. 

"That's inside you. You can't fake-... Sorry. Let me start over again." She took a deep breath. "You can behave perfectly, but if the  _feeling's_ not there inside... Oh God... I feel so unreasonable."

"No?" I asked, some small part of my brain hoping that for once my fallibility in reading social cues would work in my favour. 

"Lexa, you don't feel love, do you?" Clarke said. "You can't really love me."

"Raven diagnosed love." I knew now that he had been wrong. I had watched more romantic movies than I had ever before and felt nothing. That was not strictly true. I had felt suspense, curiosity and highly amusement. But I had not for one moment felt engaged in the love between the protagonists. I had cried no tears for Wanheda, or the Commander, or Mary or Kimberly or Ethan. 

I could not lie about so important matters. "According to your definition, no."

Clarke looked extremely unhappy. The evening had turned into a disaster. 

"I really thought my behavior would make you happy, and instead it made you sad."

"I'm upset because you can't love me, Lexa. Okay?"

This was worse! She wanted me to love her. And I was incapable. 

"Lexa," she said. "I don't think we should see each other anymore."

I looked at her for 5 seconds and then stood up from the table and walked back to the entrance foyer, out of sight of Clarke and the other diners. Craig was there, talking to Finn. He saw me and came over. 

"Can I help you with anything?"

"Unfortunately, there has been a disaster."

Craig looked worried, and I elaborated. 

"A personal disaster. There is no risk to other patrons. Would you prepare the bill, please?"

"We haven't served you anything," said Craig. He looked at me closely for a few moments. "There's no charge, Ma'am. The white wine is on us." He offered me his hand and I shook it. "I think you gave it your best shot."

I looked up to see Raven and Octavia arriving. They were holding hands and they were smiling. The last time I saw them this happy was them making an escape from the restaurant while I was with Clarke. 

"Please don't tell me we've missed it!" Raven said, happily. 

I nodded, then looked back into the restaurant. Clarke was walking quickly towards us. 

"Oh fuck...," Clarke said, then looked at Raven and Octavia. "What are you doing here?"

"We are invited to a 'Thank you and celebration'," Raven said. "Happy birthday, Lexa." Kissing me on my cheek and gave me a gift-wrapped package. I recognised that this was probably the final step in the female-female - gal pal - advice protocol, indicating acceptance of the advice without damage to our friendship, and managed not to flinch, but could not process the input any further. My brain was already overloaded. 

"It's your birthday?!" Clarke was surprised. 

"Correct," I said. 

"I had to get Monty to look up your birthday," Raven said. "but 'celebration' was a clue."

I normally do not treat birthdays differently from other days but it had struck me as an appropriate occasion to commence a new direction. 

Octavia decided to break the bubble and make herself known. "Hey Clarke, it's great seeing you again. I've missed you." She pulled Clarke into a hug and once they've stepped back, Clarke turned to Raven. 

"A 'thank you'? Thank  _you?_ Fuck. It wasn't enough to set us up - you had to coach her. You had to turn her into you!"

Octavia said, calmly, "Clarke, it wasn't Raven's-..."

Raven put her hand on Octavia's shoulder and she stopped. 

"No, it wasn't," Raven said. "Who  _asked_ him to change? Who said that she'd be  _perfect_ for her if she was  _different_?"

Clarke was now looking very upset. All of my friends (except Steve the fat baseball fan) were fighting.  _This is a total chaos._ I wanted rewind my life back in Ark City where everything was simple and care-free, but at the same time make better decisions. But it's impossible. Nothing would change the fault in my brain that made me unacceptable. 

Raven hadn't stopped. "Do you have any fucking idea what he did for you, Clarke? Take a small field trip to her visit sometime. Then you'll know what I mean. Gosh, Clarke. Someone  _finally_ trying to change themselves for you. Unlike this douche bag over here!" Raven pointed at Finn who suddenly looked offended. "Finn and Clarke used to date. Not until Finn cheated on her." She said to me. That made a sense with the look that Finn was always giving me. 

Clarke walked out of the restaurant. 

Raven turned to Octavia, "Sorry I interrupted you."

"Someone had to say it," Octavia shakes her head. She looked at Clarke, who was already some distance down the street. "I think I coached the wrong person."

/////

Raven and Octavia offered me a lift home, but I did not want to continue the conversation. I started walking, then accelerated to a jog. And it doesn't matter the crippling pain from wearing high heels. I quickly felt numb and just want to run as fast as I can. 

It made sense to get home before rained. It also made sense to exercise hard and put the restaurant behind me as quickly as possible. The elegant dress and high heels were very unworkable especially in a cold night. I removed my high heels, that some how made me acceptable to the world that does not accept me for a short while and threw it in the trash can. On an impulse I retrieved the carefully the packed short-stalked red rose from my purse and carried it in my hand for the remainder of the journey. There was rain in the air and my face was wet as I reached a familiar building. Clarke's building. 

I saw an opportunity that the apartment building main entrance was open. I quickly stepped inside and immediately felt warmth. I vaguely remembered Raven telling me about Clarke's apartment but all I knew right at that moment, was me standing in front of this door, bending down and placed the red rose at the door step. 

The door suddenly swung open. 

"Lexa-..."

It was Clarke. 

I didn't say anything and walked out. 

/////

We had not finished the wine at the restaurant. I decided to compensate for the resulting alcohol deficit and poured a tumbler of tequila. I turned on the television and computer and fast-forwarded  _Titanic_ for one last try. I watched Jack slowly freezing to death in the middle of the ocean with Rose lifelessly floating on a wooden door. Jack had chosen to give up his own life for the sake of her own love interest. He was unselfish and deeply care for Rose. Despite, sacrificing everything - even his life. The way the massive unsinkable ship suffered this was in intriguing reason to be engrossed. But this is not the reason why people cried.  _They were in love and could never be together._ I repeated this statement to myself, trying to force an emotional reaction. 

I couldn't. 

I didn't care. 

I had enough problems of my own. 

The doorbell buzzed, and I immediately thought  _Clarke_ but when I pushed the CCTV button, it was Octavia's face appeared. 

"Lexa, are you okay? Can I come up?" Octavia said. 

"It's too late."

"What have you done?" Octavia sounded panicked. "Lexa? Please."

"It's 10.44," I said. "Too late for visitors."

"Well...Are you okay?" She asked again. "If you need someone to talk to. I'm here. I'll listen to you. Please let me come up."

"I'm fine, Octavia. The experience has been highly useful. New Social skills. And final resolution of the Wife Problem. Clear evidence that I'm incompatible to be with a woman."

Raven's face then appeared. "Lexa, can we please come up for a drink?"

"Alcohol would a bad idea, Raven," I still had a half-glass of tequila in my hand. I was telling a polite lie to avoid social contact. "I'm tired. I have to go."

"Lexa-..."

I turned off the intercom. 

////

The message light on my phone was flashing. It was my parents and Anya wishing me a happy birthday. I had already spoken to my mother 2 days before when she made her regular Sunday calls. They were utilizing the speaker-phone function and started singing happy birthday song - or at least my mother did, strongly encouraging my father to participate. 

"Ring back if you're home before 10.30pm," my mother said. It was already 10.44pm and at the moment I don't really feel like talking to anyone. I ended the voice mail and went back to the kitchen. 

_"Happy birthday, mother fucker!!!"_

I turned around and found Anya slamming the door shut. She doesn't normally visit during my birthday and phone calls are more than enough. But this must be one of her random visits. 

"What are you doing here, Anya?" I said, pulling my tall chair and taking a sip of my drink. 

Anya frowned and gave me a tight hug from the back. "Why the grumpy-poo, Lexie-coo?"

I despised all her nickname calling. 

Anya must have sensed that I wasn't in the mood and simply thought that by giving me a gift would cheer up my declining mood. 

"Here. Something that might cheer you up," she pushed the gift to my hands. "Open it! Come on!"

I opened tore away the wrapper and found myself looking at a-...

"Dildo!" Anya laughed. "I know it's been a loooongg time, honey-boo. But your sister dearest is here to the rescue," she winked. She must have sensed that something was wrong. She always said that a 'sister will always know'. But does she know, really? "What's wrong, Lexa?" I didn't respond. "Girl problem?"

I looked away. 

"Oh my god... Is this for real?! Did my Lexie-boo finally found a woman?!"

I still didn't answer. 

She pushed the gift away and pulled on my hands. I looked at her. "What happened? Tell me... Is it the girl that Raven had been talking about?" I looked at her again. "Yes, Lexa. I know about the blonde with the big tits. Raven had been-... Let's just say... Keeping a good look out for you. So tell me about her."

"There's nothing to say, Anya. It's over." I said. 

"It can't be over. Does she knows it's your birthday?"

I nodded. 

"Well didn't she greet you?" I wasn't in the mood to talk about Clarke. More so, talking about our time together. I was feeling annoyed and somehow, lost. But I knew for the fact Anya will always get her own way. " _Alexandria_." It's the same tone that Mother always does to me when I wasn't being cooperative. Anya would always do the same thing just to get what she wants. Family. 

"She's just a girl, Anya. Nothing special."

"Nothing special? Hell, fuck that when it creates this kind of reaction from you."

I sighed and pulled away from her. "I'm not seeing her anymore."

"Why not? Raven said this girl is a huge catch-..."

"She won't accept me, Anya," I said in a stern voice. My annoyance was spiking up the more we talked about Clarke. 

Anya stood there for a moment in silence. A minute later, she walked up to me and hugged me tightly. "I love you, Lexie-boo. Remember that. We accept you no matter what you are."

/////

It was cold and the rain was pouring, but my balcony was under shelter. It's 12.57am and Anya just left my apartment building. I took a chair and my glass outside then went back inside, put on the greasy wool jumper that my mother had knitted for a much earlier birthday and collected the remainder of the tequila bottle. 

I was 35 years old. My father used to play a song written by Barry Manilow. I remember that it was by the Barry Manilow because he would say 'We're gonna do a song by Barry Manilow. Are there any Barry Manilow fans here?' Apparently there were still because there was loud and raucous applause before he started singing. 

I decided that tonight I was also a Barry Manilow fan and that I wanted to hear the songs. This was the first time in my life that I could recall the desire to hear a particular piece of music. I had the technology. Or used to. I went to pull out my mobile phone and and logged in to Spotify. Track down Barry Manilow's soundtracks and pressed play. 'The Old Song', then 'Somewhere down the road' and added 'Ready to take a chance again.'

I placed my phone on the railing and let the music reach my ears. I sipped my tequila and let the voice from my childhood brought back the memories that I first heard it playing. 

At 18, just before I left home to go to University, statistically speaking, approaching a quarter of my life, I had listened to these words and been reminded that I had very little understanding of who I was. It had taken me until tonight, almost halfway, to see myself reasonably clearly. I had Clarke, and the Clarke Project to thank for that. Now it was over, what had I learned?

  1. I need not be visibly strange. I could engage in the protocols that others followed and move undetected among them.
  2. I had the skills that other didn't. My memory and ability to focus had given me an advantage in baseball statistics, cocktail-making and genetics. People had valued this skills, not making fun of them. 
  3. I could enjoy friendship and good times. It was my lack of skills and motivation that hold me back. Stave the fat baseball fan and the pierced diner from the Dropship had been a great example. Well besides from Clarke. 
  4. I had told Raven and Octavia that I was incompatible with women or humans - for this matter. This was an exaggeration. I could interact with women and keep company. Clarke and Titus was a very good example of this. 
  5. The idea behind the Wife Project was still sound. In many culture, matchmaker would have routinely done with I did, with less technological resources and puts more extra effort in doing so, but the same conclusion - that compatibility was as important foundation for marriage as love. 
  6. I was not wired to feel love. And faking it was not acceptable. Not to me. I had feared that Clarke would not love me. Instead, it was I who could not love Clarke. 
  7. I had a great deal of valuable knowledge about genetics, computers, cocktail-making, sexual positions, social protocols, dancing, aikido, meditation, and the probability of the winning streak in baseball. I knew so much  _piece of shit_ and I still couldn't fix myself. 



As the shuffle setting on my phone selected the same two songs over and over, I realised that my thinking was also beginning to circle and that, despite the tidy formulation, there was some flaw in my logic. I decided it was my unhappiness with the night's outcome breaking through, my wish that it could be different. 

I watched the rain falling over the city. I watched the naked man's light switched off. I watched the movement of the dark cloud across the dark sky. I watched the red man turn green.

And poured the last of the tequila.


	15. The Real Father Incident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so this is it. This is the end of Professor Alexandria Woods and Clarke Griffin.
> 
> Professor Lexa thought that through Science and research she can find her one true love. But what she didn't know that it takes more than Science to work out 'love'. 
> 
> Enters Clarke Griffin, The blonde girl with huge tits - the most incompatible woman. 
> 
> Crazy antics and adventure. 
> 
> They fell in love.

I was still in my chair when I woke the next morning. It was very cold and still raining and my phone battery had exhausted itself. I shook my head to test for hangover but it seemed that my alcohol-processing enzymes had done their job adequately. So had my brain. I had unconsciously set it a problem to solve and understanding the importance of the situation, it had overcome the handicap of intoxication to reach a solution.

I began the second half of my life by making a cup of coffee. Life changes is still ongoing.

Then I revised the very simple logic.

  1. I was wired differently. One of the characteristics of my wiring was that I had difficulty in empathizing. This predicament has been well established in others and is, in fact, one of the symptoms of the autism spectrum.
  2. A lack of empathy would result for my inability to respond emotionally to the situation of fictional characters in films. This was similar to my inability to respond to others did to the victims of massive explosion that burned 300 Grounders to the ground. But I did feel sorry for Titus - for being abandoned by his children after his wife died; My sister, Anya - who's boyfriend died in an accident; My parents when Anya and I left the household; Octavia - for her unrequited love for Raven and yet, still continues to remain to be best friend status - I don't know about it now; Raven - who seeks achievements but no security and at the same time, wanted to be admired but had achieved the opposite; Jacky Boy himself - for his struggle from his insecurities, being denied by his love of his life, Abigail and for being invisible in Clarke's life; John Murphy - whose focus is on passing the course but that blinded him to ethical conduct; the Dean, Jaha, who had to make decisions under contradictory rules and deal with prejudices; Faith Healer aka The Skinny Boy - who reconcile his strong beliefs with scientific evidence;  Mrs Gillmer - whose son had committed suicide and whose mind no longer functioned; and, critically, Clarke, whose childhood and now adulthood had been made unhappy by her mother's death and her father problem and who now wanted me to love her. This was an impressive list, and, though it did not include Jack and Rose from  _Titanic,_ it was clear evidence that my empathy capability was not entirely absent.
  3. An inability (or reduced ability) to empathize is not the same as an inability to love. Love is a mysterious and powerful feeling for another person, often defying logic.
  4. Clarke had failed numerous criteria on the Wife Project, including smoking question. My feelings for her  _could not be explained by logic._ I did not care about Gerard Butler. But I was in love with Clarke.



I had to act quickly, not because I believed the situation with Clarke was likely to change in the immediate future. I went back to the kitchen where my belongings were, but it wasn't! Recklessness! I must have left my purse at the trash can when I was extracting the red rose from it. The consequence of being mentally unstable! Luckily I was already dressed from the previous evening.

It was still raining when I arrived at the bin, just in time to see it emptied into a garbage truck compactor. I had a backup plan, but it was going to take time. I turned the bike around to head for home and crossed the intersection.

Slumped in the back alley, out of the rain, was a hobo. She was fast asleep, and she was wearing my high heels and my purse slung around her neck. I carefully reached for the purse and extracted the envelope. As I remounted my bike, I saw a couple on the other side of the street watching me. The male started to run towards me, but the woman called him back. She was making a call on her mobile phone.

It was only 7.57am when I arrived at the university. A police car approached from the opposite direction, slowed as it passed me, then signalled a U-turn. It occurred to me that it could have been summoned to deal with my apparent theft from the hobo. I turned quickly down the bicycle path, where I could not be followed by a motor vehicle, and headed towards the History Building to grab a towel.

As I opened the unlocked door of my office it was obvious that I had had a visitor, and who that visitor had been. The single stalk red rose was lying on my desk. So was the Father Project file, which had been removed from the filing cabinet. The list of father-candidate names and sample descriptions was on the desk beside it.

Clarke had left a note.

_Lexa, I'm sorry about everything. But I know who Table-Napkin Man is. I've told Dad. I probably shouldn't have but I was very upset. I didn't know what to do. I wanted to talk to you. I tried to call you. I'm really sorry again.  
\- Clarke_

There was a lot of crossed-out writing between  _Sorry again_ and  _Clarke._ But this was a disaster! I needed to warn Jacky Boy.

His colleagues from the Engineering Department mentioned that he was in a breakfast meeting at the University Club. I checked the PhD area, and Bellamy was there, but not Clarke. Bellamy could see that I was highly agitated, and followed me.

"I heard what you did," He said. I turned to face him. "Bare move. A professor hitting on a student."

I knew how teacher-student relationship was seen in public. I've heard enough news regarding such issue. I knew I should be afraid because that's the social norm. But quite frankly, I wasn't.

"I have to find Clarke," I said, moving towards the University Club.

We reached the Club, and located Raven at a table with Jacky Boy. But at another table, I saw Clarke. She was with Octavia and seemed very distressed. I realised that she could be sharing the news about Jacky Boy, even prior to a DNA ratification. The Father Project was ending in total disaster. But I had come from something. I was desperate to share my revelation. We could resolve the other problem later.

I ran to Clarke's table. I was still wet as a result of forgetting to dry myself. Clarke was obviously surprised to see me. I dispensed with formalities.

"I've made an incredible idiotic mistake. I can't believe I've been so stupid! Irrational!"

Octavia made a signal for me to stop. I ignored them.

"You failed almost every single criteria of the Wife Project. Disorganized. Snores so loudly that I can hear you from the other side of the wall, mathematically illiterate, ridiculous food requirements-... Incredible. Beautiful. Amazing. Fantastic, even! That I considered sharing my life with a smoker. PERMANENTLY!"

Clarke's expression was complex, but appeared to include sadness, anger and surprise.

"Didn't take you long to change your mind," Clarke said.

"That's the problem, Clarke! I haven't changed my mind. But I want to spend my life with you even though it's totally irrational! And you have short earlobes. Socially and genetically there's no reason for me to be attracted to you!" By this time I was shouting even louder. "The only logical conclusion is that I must be in love with you."

Octavia got up, took my arm and push me down into her chair.

Clarke was staring at me in silence. Her expression was blank. I can't read it.

"You don't give up, do you?" she said.

"Am I being annoying?" I said.

"No", Clarke said, smiling. "You're being incredibly brave, Lexa. I have the best fun whenever I'm with you. You're the smartest, funniest - incredibly gullible - person I've ever known. You've done all of this things for me. It's-... It's everything I wanted and I've been too scared to grab it because-..."

She stopped and stares. I knew what she was thinking. I finished it for her.

"Because I'm weird...," I said. "Perfectly understandable. I'm familiar with the problem because everyone else seems weird to me too."

Clarke laughed loudly.

I tried to explain.

"Crying over fictitious characters, for example."

Clarke nodded. "Could you live with me crying in movies?"

"Of course." I said. "It's a conventional reaction-..." Then I realized what she had just said. "You're offering to live with me?"

Clarke looks down and smiles.

"You left this at the table," she said, and pulled out the small box. She opened it and there's the ring that I had bought. I realized that Clarke had reversed her decision of the previous night, and was in effect rolling back time to allow my original plan to proceed at an alternative location.

I extracted the ring from the box, bend in one knee and asked for her hand.

"Will you marry me Clarke Griffin?" I said.

Clarke grins and nodded. "Yes, Lexa. I would love to."

I put it on on her finger and it fitted. I felt a major sense of relief.

I became aware of applause. It seemed natural. I had been living in the world of romantic comedy and this was the final scene. But it was real. This is happening to me. The entire club dining room had been watching. I decided to complete the story according to tradition and kissed Clarke. It was even better than the previous occasion.

When we separated, Clarke was glaring at me. "You better not let me down," she said. "I expect 100% Professor Alexandria Woods Craziness."

"Professor  _Lexa_ Woods," I said, kissing her again on the lips.

Marcus Kane walked in, his face was clearly angry, accompanied by the club manager.

"Oh God...," Clarke said.

He walked over to Jacky Boy, who stood up. The recognition was obvious, they must have known each other way before. There was a brief conversation and then Marcus knocked him to the floor with a single punch to the jaw. Jacky Boy's nose plaster cast peeled off and he was grunting on the ground.

Bellamy and the club manager rushed forward and restrained Marcus, who did not resist. Raven ran up to Jacky Boy, who was slowly rising, touching his assaulted jaw. He appeared to be seriously injured with the additional assault by Marcus. I realized that under the traditional rules of romantic behavior, it was correct for Marcus to assault Jacky Boy, assuming he had in fact seduced Clarke's mother when she was Marcus' girlfriend.

However, it was not certain when did Marcus came to the picture. On the other hand, Jacky Boy must have understood, because he appeared to be reassuring the club manager that everything was okay. The security personnel of the University finally came and examined the scene.

"I trusted you man! How could do this to me!" Marcus was shouting.

Jacky Boy stepped forward, still clutching his jaw. "I love Abby, Marcus. That will never stop."

"All this time I thought you were my friend. All this time that you visited _my_ house and gave Clarke presents, I thought you were just being a good old pal. Now I know why! No wonder you won't even let Clarke see you! You run away like a little coward you are."

"Clarke deserves a good father, Marcus. Not some low life like me."

"I highly doubt that Jake. I've been trying my best to be a good father to her. But that's not good enough when all she could think about was she not being good enough for her real father!"

I looked at Clarke and she was silent. Her expression was a combination of sadness, anger and stun.

"Why don't you ask her yourself, huh?" Marcus pointed at Clarke at the far end of the club dining room.

Jacky Boy quickly turned around and surprised to see Clarke, who seems to be visibly trembling.

"Clarke...," Jacky Boy said.

"You lied to me," Said Clarke. Her tone was soft, as if she was almost whispering. Then she redirected her attention to me. "Please take me away from here."

I didn't think twice and grabbed her hand and went straight for the entrance door.

I realized for the past 15 minutes since we evacuated the University Club dining room. I have learned new critical points for the Father Project.

  1. Jacky Boy was a frequent visitor of the Kane Household. Apparently, Marcus and Jake go a long way, back in high school.
  2. Jacky Boy never give a reason to talk to Clarke alone. Clarke assume that Jake's afraid that he'll accidentally tell her the truth. Justifiable. I've seen this happened in in the films that I've watched, where their mind was overly stimulated by the truth and accidentally 'spill the beans' unintentionally. This happened to me, a few time when I was young - Anya has her own way to manipulate or take advantage of the situation.
  3. Jacky Boy was the reason how Clarke ended up in Polis University. Close contacts and few personal calls.



Clarke's face was wet. She hadn't been talking for the past 20 minutes which was a record breaking. I wanted to tell this to her as a joke but with her expression, it deem inappropriate. So I remained silent and watch cars pass our bench by the side walk.

"Thank you for being there for me," Clarke said.

I turned to her and watch her wipe her face with her hands. I don't know what to say. I was never good at this kind of situation and most of the time, I only embarrass myself. Then she grabbed my hand and place it on her chest, I can feel her pendant underneath her thin layer of clothing but more so, her fast beating heart.

This must have contributed to the turn of events. The Real Father Incident. With Marcus finding out the truth, I wonder how will things run inside the house. Clarke finally found out her biological father, will Marcus finally served his stepfather purpose? This is the situation that Clarke hadn't address all this time. Besides from hoping that his real father would deal with the Kane situation, the issue seems to differ from the initial hopes.

"What are you planning to do when this is over?" I said.

Clarke sighed. "I don't know. I can't think pass this. Not until I've talked to both of them."

I turned to her. "What do you want to do now?"

She turned to me and smiled, but it's a sad smile. I can tell this one easily because her dimples didn't show.

"I want for Professor Woods to show me her world." She said, as she stood up and held out her hand for me.

I gave her mine and walked towards the one place that I am so eager now for her to see.

/////

"Street Fair," Clarke said. I can deduced that she's surprise by the tone in her voice. "Wasn't expecting this from you Professor Woods. Where shall we begin?"

The small road at CW Street was blocked off to give way for the Street Fair. It wasn't my plan to go but now, that Clarke was in a somber - I decided to bring her to the Street Fair. She had mentioned that she loves Art and hence, excellent choice for the situation. There were numerous artists lining up, drawing their patrons on the spot. Clarke was already ahead of me by a few feet.

"Lexa!" She was summoning me to go over. "Can you draw both of us?" She said to the street artist.

I was in an uncomfortable position. Clarke have her arms around my waist and left arm was around her neck, I don't know what to do with it. With the artist's obvious scrutiny, I felt even more in distress. Body contact was the one thing that I dreaded and now, with my open confession to Clarke, I knew that I should have come prepared to get more physical. But this isn't working out. My body feels awkward and-...

"You're stiff," Clarke said, looking up at me. "Relax. Okay? Let me enjoy our time together. Who knows what's gonna happen once I've talked to those two buffoons."

By two Buffoons, she must have meant Marcus and Jacky Boy. That's understandable. To elevate your happiness to create this pillow of safety net, that when everything came tumbling down the impact won't be as hard as you've expected. It's a safe bet.

After insisting on paying the artist for our blown-up heads and little bodies, which Clarke proudly calls 'Caricature', we walked a little while more and right at the corner I saw a flashing neon light 'Psychic'. This sudden - unexpected - excitement overwhelmed me.

"Where are you taking me?" Clarke asked.

"There," I said, pointing at the neon sign.

Clarke burst laughing.

"Are you for real, Lexa? Do you actually believe in psychics? Those are crooks!" She said. "I can't believe that a professor of history / science believes in such things."

I know the irrationality of the situation. As a professor with great knowledge of science, it is understandable that Psychics are - according to Raven - shit shenanigans.

"They spouted random facts and shit steal your money for a living. They're bunch of shit shenanigans that con people. A complete waste of time."

It is a good explanation -terrible simplified explanation in lay man's term but rational. I completely agree with Raven and this time, with Clarke. Going to Psychics are completely ridiculous and  _shit_ waste of time.

"It's called having fun, Clarke," I said, walking over to the sign.

"You're truly a changed woman. You just kept surprising me."

We entered the small pitched tent and found a table, with a stack of tarot cards and a crystal ball. No one was around. Clarke already wanted to leave and when we're about to, a woman in aztec robes was blocking the entrance where we came in.

"I had been expecting you," She said.

Clarke scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Says by _every_ psychic in the world."

The woman smiles and walks behind the table and sat down. Her eyes were on me. Was she expecting something from me? It feels like she is.

"What a lovely couple," the psychic smiles. She gestured at the two chairs in front of her and didn't say anything after.

Clarke looks at me with clear amusement. "Come on, Professor let's find out our disastrous future."

We both settled on our seats and the psychic suddenly grabs my hand. I panicked because it was a dead grip. Her eyes were wide and horrifically looking straight to mine and I was already regretting coming in.

"AH! Yooouu... Oh you... You're a very special woman. I see a bright future ahead of you!" She said. "I see, I see a plane. Out! You're going out! I see a... Gold... Fish..."

" A gold fish?" Clarke said, puzzled as I am. She laughed a little. "Are you gonna buy a gold fish, Lexa?" It was obvious that she was joking.

"And you!" She grabbed Clarke's hand. "Oh! OH..... 2 men... Fight... Love... Family... Death..."

I turned to Clarke and her face was very complex. But I knew it was negative. She pulled away from the psychic's hand and did the Beer Coughing Signal. The Psychic blinked a couple of times as if she just woke up.

"This is bullshit," Clarke said and exit out of the tent.

It was a great escape. An escape from hearing vague words and wondering eyes of a Psychic. Clarke just left me to clearly say some apologetic words.

"I deeply apologize for my girlfriend's unexpected action," I forked out a couple of dollar bills and push it across the table. "Have a nice day."

Quickly, I stood up and walk for the exit. When the Psychic spoke again.

"Be prepared. The unexpected is yet to come."

I looked at her for the last time before I roamed out to the street - searching for Clarke.

/////

Never in a thousand years did I say the word 'Girlfriend'. That's an exaggeration. But associating the word to my own self - it was awkward. The word kept replaying in my head over and over again.

Girlfriend. Girlfriend. Girlfriend.

And statistically, that is wrong. Clarke isn't my girlfriend. She's my fiance.  _She's my fiance!_ I'm going to marry Clarke Griffin. Contrary to popular beliefs, Alexandria Woods will never have a ring in her finger - except for fashionable reasons. But then again, I wasn't fashionable enough to begin with.

My fiance is missing.

Clarke is missing.

It's 7.48pm and the streets were dark but the crowd is only starting. I've searched from one end to another but still no sign. I've rang Clarke's phone but still no answer. It had been half an hour since Clarke's sudden departure and I was about to give up, when my phone rang. It's Clarke.

"Clarke? Where are you?" I said.

"At home." She said.

"You went home?"

"I didn't went home - _home_. I went to  _your_ home. _Our home_."

The impact was strong. It made me giddy. If I had known that 'love' will do this to you without physically punching you, I would have backed out. I ended the call and ran for my apartment but not before I made a quick detour to the wet market and bought a sustainable seafood.

Clarke was sitting by the door with her head on her knees. She must have heard me coming because she looks up and said. "I'm hungry." And her expression was as if she was about to cry. If this is what I will be expecting every night after work, I better stock the pantry with food everyday.

/////

The time on the microwave says '8.38pm' and I've finished boiling the spaghetti and marinate it with my home-made tomato sauce. Clarke was outside the balcony when I called her in.

"Need help?" She asked.

When I turned around, I had a fright of my life. Clarke was holding the knife in a very dangerous life-threatening way. Carefully, I took it away from her.

"Perhaps not with a knife," I said.

I summoned her at the microwave.

"Wow. A microwave. Amazing." She said. Grinning with amusement with her obvious sarcasm.

I tried a social intervention and rolled my eyes. But it only works for Clarke's odd favor.

"AAHHH! You rolled your eyes! Oh my god!" She jumped. "The world is really ending. I must have woken up at the wrong side of the bed. What's happening with the world today?! Alexandria Woods just fucking  _rolled her eyes!_ "

I ignored her manic exaggeration and picked up the seafood I purchased. One by one I placed it on a plate and popped it inside the microwave. Waited till its done and showed it to Clarke.

"Sustainable Clams." I said. Carefully, cracking open the shell and witness Clarke's stun expression. I feel a boost of confidence.

I placed three clams on each of our spaghetti and carried it to the balcony. Clarke followed with two glass of red wine. The night was chilly but perfect for eating out.

"So tell me," Clarke said. "How did you figure it out?"

She must be talking about Jacky Boy. It's the only logical option. I entailed the first encounter of Jake and the graduation photo. Soon after, the reaction from his face. At first I was hesitant but I knew I shouldn't let the opportunity of leaving behind possible evidence.

"You're the one who punched his nose?!" Clarke said.

"I didn't punched him," I set it clear. "I wanted more information-..."

"Oh so you push him to the ground and broke his nose. _R_ _ight_."

I was getting annoyed because Clarke won't let me explain. She kept interrupting. Finally, after some time I finally got my message across and everything was explained.

"I can't believe his my dad."

"There's no concrete proof yet, Clarke. My lab keys were still with the Dean and we have not tested out the samples yet."

"What's there to test out? Everything checks in. He's constantly there since I could remember. I mean-... He hardly talks to me. Which I get it cause he's a freaking coward. God...," she covered her face with her hands. "And you know what's the most ridiculous thing?"

"What?" I said.

"We have the same fucking last name!" Clarke said, laughing. "Griffin. It makes you wonder if I were using my dad's last name all this time. I-... I didn't even thought of it. Or even for one second thought of him as my father. There are thousands of Griffins in the world. I would have never thought of him at all as a father figure... My father isn't a fucking doctor! He's an engineer for pit sake! I don't know what to think anymore."

"How do you feel about it?"

Clarke looks up and looks away. "I don't know," she shrugs. "I mean... I guess happy. Scared.... Very confused. I wanted to know more. I wanted to know  _why,_ after all this years he can't even approach me and tell me the truth. Every time I see him talking to Kane, he was always waving at me and smiling. He brought me presents and now... It all made sense  _why."_

The expression on Clarke was blank. I can't read it. The complexity of the situation has done this, I assume. I guess I could place it as 'lost'. It has been 13 minutes since Clarke said something. I walked back to my room and took out my telescope and set it up by the balcony.

"What's that?" Clarke said.

Even though, it is obvious that it is a telescope - Clarke still asks.

"A telescope, Clarke," I said, setting the right angle and navigates towards the sky. Its the perfect night. "Come here. Quickly."

I peeked at the telescope, angled it a little bit more, made some adjustments until the stars aligned. Then I gestured for Clarke to take a peek.

"See the dotted lines," I said. Clarke nodded. "Those are double stars. They're singular stars but when you look through the telescope its causes to double. Allow me. I'll show you another thing."

Clarke steps back and I manuevred the telescope to another part of the dark sky. I smiled spotting it again. I moved back and gestured back at Clarke. She positioned at it again and I heard her gasped.

"It's beautiful."

I looked up at the sky. "Yes, it is... Those are my favorites. The milky way. It would have been better on lesser light pollution but its still as beautiful than any other."

Clarke looks at me and smiles. I smiled back.

"You're beautiful." She said.

'Love' is a real assault. I felt myself catching out of breath.

"Thank you for showing me this, Lexa. It's amazing. And um...," Clarke looks away suddenly. I assume from shyness. "Thank you for everything you've done for me. For finding my dad. For Ark City. For just-... Just being there for me. I-..."

I had heard those words before. I know how she feels. However, the rational part of me was saying, hear her out. But the newer and bolder side of me was saying, make her shut up. I knew what's the logical decision here.

Clarke wrapped her arms around my neck and deepened into the kiss.

Every instincts that our ancestors had taught us were kicking in. I could feel it in my stomach and it's making me sick - a  _good_ sick. Clarke pushed me and I stumbled back onto the railings - 'FYI' a very dangerous place. But that was thrown out of the window the second Clarke leaned against me and I can feel her 'big tits' against mine. I knew for sure I was reeling in on a very dangerous and untouched territory.

Clarke pulled away. "I love you, Lexa."

Those words stopped me. I could only look at Clarke as I took in the reality of what she had said. I guessed she was doing the same, and it was several seconds before she spoke.

"How many positions in that book can you do?"

"The sex book? All of them."

"Don't mind-fuck me, Lexa."

"It was considerably less complex than the cocktail book... And I can mind-fuck you."

Those last words again stopped me. I could only look at Clarke for one second before looking away feeling embarrassed for myself, yet  _again_.

"Then let's go to your room," she said. "Maybe if you still have Commander Lexa's costume..."

"It's in my office."

"Another time. Don't throw it out."

I nodded and followed Clarke back inside and into my bedroom. When my eyes landed on the envelope by the counter.

"AH!" Clarke quickly turned around, surprised. I had forgotten about the envelope. I pulled it out and waved it in front of Clarke.

"Tickets! Tickets to City of Light! All problems solved!" I fanned out the three tickets, took Clarke's hand and grins.

Clarke laughed.

"You're unbelievable," she took the tickets, placed it back inside the envelope and pulled me back to the bedroom. "All problems not yet solved. One last problem." She winked at me as she closed the door behind us.

/////

Clarke Griffin is the most incompatible woman at its best. But as it seems my body reaction refuses to acknowledge this fact.

"You're staring, Lexa."

How could she possibly have known that? She have her eyes closed but her lips... Oh God those lips that assaulted every inch of my aching body. I have never been this attracted to a woman before and its a very 'touchy' subject. Good. I'm learning new innuendo techniques.

"Impossible. Your eyes are closed, Clarke," I said.

Clarke opened her eyes and again, for the hundredth time - exaggeration - I was struck by those blue eyes. I wonder if I could capture this to my memory. I can't believe I'm thinking this kind of things like never been before. Is this how being in love feels like?

" _You're_ impossible," She said. She pulled the duvet closer to her chin and smiles at me. "What's your agenda today?"

Incredible. For the first time in my life I overslept! The time at my night stand says, '12.56pm'. How could I lost track of time?

"The consequence of overly stimulated night," Clarke chuckles. The look on her face was obviously mischief. I looked at her stunned. She rolled her eyes. "I can read your mind, Lexa. I'm quite surprised too you didn't jumped out of bed by 5am."

"Over fatigue," I said.

"Hoh yeah.  _Over fatigue,"_ Clarke winked and laughed.

I don't know what was she laughing about. She must have seen it on my face and she gestured in my room. At our clothes strewn all over the floor. At the haphazard angle of my study table. At my academic books scattered all over the place. At my bedside lamp with the cord curling upwards the bed.

"Why is my wrist tied to my bed side lamp?" My mind gone blank. Another consequence of overly stimulated night. I still feel the ache at specific areas - in areas that I've never thought of having with a woman.

Clarke smiled  - I knew it was a sly. She meant it to be a sly, I have a great feeling about it.

" _Very_  wild night, Lexa. I can't believe you had in you. You weren't kidding when you said you knew all the positions." She said, grabbing my wrist and untying the cord. "Um... I have to go."

"Why?"

"I have to talk to them. You know, 'fix' the family."

Clarke stepped out of the bed and I felt flushed. Clarke's standing in front of me with no clothes on. She was looking at me. I can see it. That blonde girl with huge tits.

Clarke smiles and kissed me on the lips. "I'll call you after?"

I nodded. I watched her get dress and left the apartment with yet, another lingering kiss. It felt like my whole world collapsed into small pieces. Exaggeration. My brain still functioning well that I managed to cook - dismissing the Standardized Meal System - and eat without a disruption. However, my conscious thinking is somewhere else. I looked at my right hand and remembering it touching Clarke at places that I have never entered before. I remember her whispering my name to my ear as I do so. I remember her crying - with no tears and I thought I did something wrong but to only got threatened by stopping the stimulation. I remember her catching her breath when I go too fast. 

I remembered moaning. I specifically knew that I was moaning because Clarke suddenly burst laughing. "Is Professor Alexandria Woods fucking  _moaning?_ Oh my God!" I felt aggravated and littlest I know embarrassed by it. I flipped her around and I was hovering on the top of her. I thought she felt afraid at that moment but then she slowly smiled. "Whatchu gonna do about it, Professor Alexandria?" 

"It's Professor  _Lexa_ ," I remembered saying and Clarke laughed again. I realized that I wanted to hear it again and I tried to do it again to conjures that same reaction. So I did what I knew of doing - things that people usually do in the Tv shows or in the dozen movies that I've watched to get to this moment. "Tickle fight!" And Clarke laughed like a little child and it made me laugh too. It was the most light-weighed moment of our night.

My favorite part. 

/////

I had to inform the University that I was caught sick and hence, cannot make it to work. I woke up late and hence, producing an unproductive day. I spent the entire afternoon thinking how Clarke was doing with her pending discussion with Jacky Boy and Kane. I initiated to accompany her to give moral support but she declined my offer and now I am here sitting down on the balcony mindlessly watching people crossing the street. Watching the clouds rolls by. Watching naked man flipping on his television set while scratching his huge round stomach. 

_"Knock! Knock!"_

I heard my front door closed. It was Anya. 

"How's my Lexie-Boo doing?" She said, ruffling my hair. I hate it when she does that. But I let her be and clearly, she was surprised. "Okay. Something is wrong here." She took a chair from the kitchen and placed it beside me. "Where is my sister and what did you do to her?!" Anya was smiling. 

I rolled my eyes to portray the ridiculousness and Anya laughed. 

"Oh my God! What happened to you? You didn't get mad me touching your hair. And now you're rolling your eyes! Woman! What is happening to you? Is the world ending?" 

I turned away. "I think it is." 

"What do you mean?" 

"I spent a night with Clarke." 

"Okaayy... You have to be more specific here, Lexa. Cause you 'spending a night' with someone, can't be the same as ' _spending'_ a night for everyone else." 

I gave her a look that Clarke always portray when making a point. 

Anya jumped out of her chair, clapping her hands. "No way! Oh my god! Lexa you better not be fucking with me!" 

I shook my head. 

"YAAASS!" She pumped her fists in the air as if she had won. "Raven  _so_ owe me 50 bucks!" 

"You made a bet on me?" I said. 

Anya rolled her eyes. "Don't worry sister dearest cause you got yourself a free dinner. Come on. Let's go. My treat. I wanna know  _everything."_ I stood up and followed her inside. There's no point of fighting with her right now when I'm fatigue and my brain is swimming with thoughts from the previous night. I have to tell someone. Anya stopped and turned around. "You did shower right? I mean I don't wanna spend my entire eve-..." 

" _Anya."_

"Okay," She raised her hands. "Just checking." 

//////

It was awkward. But good. 

Spending the evening with my sister was good. Her random visitation was always on point. When something major happened and there goes Anya strutting through the door. Anya always says 'it's sisterly instincts, baby sis.' Maybe it is. Research had shown that this is more prominent with twin siblings just as they share their time together inside their mother's womb. However, this is much as true with older or younger siblings, also known as, Anya. 

"So she finally accepted you?" Anya said. 

I nodded. "Compromise. I've altered my social behavior and made changes with my schedule." 

"So... No more Standardized Meal System?"

I shake my head. She seems relieved. 

"I can finally visit you on Mondays. God, I have roasted liver day." 

"It's high in protein, nutrients and-..."

"... vitamins. It helps to keep our brain healthy and functioning. Yadah yadah. I've heard it all," she waved away with her hand. 

Maybe spending time with my sister isn't good after all. 

"So tell me more about this blondie. Do you  _really_ like her?" 

"Raven concluded love," I said. "I concluded love too. Love doesn't define logic. I've done ridiculous things when I'm around Clarke. I've scaled a doctor's office building- I've lied. I've stolen. I've been threatened in a pitch dark basement with a sword enthusiast. I've-..." 

"Woah. You what now?" 

"But none of those mattered because in the end of the day seeing Clarke smile, that's what matters." I didn't think Anya recognized the line from 'My Heda' movie. I've had all this notes written down that I didn't managed to say to Clarke, might as well utilize it whenever it is necessary. 

Obviously, Anya was stunned. "What the  _hell_ have you been doing with that woman, Lexa?" 

"Crazy. Unexplainable things." 

"Clearly! But I'm happy for you, Lexa. I truly am." She said. " _Finally,_ after all these years." 

I knew what she meant. My none-existing love life was always the main topic of our family dinner. Which was already embarrassing as it is when 'someone' is none existent. 

"Now you've got someone to talk about during dinners with mom and dad." 

Clearly, she was ecstatic. The attention will be taken away from her with their unrelenting interrogation of marriage. We had finished our dinner and was now walking back to my apartment. Anya had her right arm around my left arm and talking happily about her week. I've missed this. Sister bonding. But then again, whenever I thought of this kind thoughts Anya always does something to ruin it. 

Anya's phone was ringing.

"Mom! Dad! Lexa has a girlfriend!" 

Just right on time.

Didn't I mention I hate my sister?

/////

The following day Clarke and I met for lunch. She was grinning when she saw me and I couldn't help but look away and smile. I must have looked ridiculous because Raven pointed it out. 

"Oh! Look at that smile! Oh God... Your gayness is showing, Commander!" Raven said. "Clarke, you broke my best friend. What did you do?!" 

All sorts of wayward and explicit things starts parading my head and majority of them were from that intimate night with Clarke. At one glance I had a strong feeling that Clarke was thinking of the same thing too. Clarke showed Raven her middle finger and stood beside me. 

"Oh yeah, you did  _that_ alright," Raven laughed. 

"Hey," Clarke asked.

"Hey," I said. 

Raven walked up to us and rolled her eyes. "Let's go eat, Lovebirds." And pulled us by the arms. 

Clarke rolled her eyes and I imitate. She laughed and I laughed. It seems like a good day after all. 

Clarke entails what happened with the confrontation between Jacky Boy and Kane. It was intense but compromising was done. It seems like it's the only way out. Clarke was glad that everything was finally out in the open and that Kane finally agreed to allow Clarke to spend quality time with her biological father. Not that Clarke would take 'No' for an answer. She'd still do it even if Kane disagree, but the point of asking Kane's permission shows the respect that Clarke has for her stepfather - despite how 'crappy' of a father he was. 

City of Light. To spend time with Jacky Boy, Clarke decided to use the tickets to have some 'quality time' with him  _and me._

"Please Lexa. Come with us." She said. 

"I don't want to intrude, Clarke. I bought those tickets for you to use at your own free time." I said. 

"But there's 3 tickets, Lexa. What am I gonna do with 3 tickets? It's just nice. You, me and Jake." 

I was still skeptical. 

Another quality that I've came to know, Clarke take 'no' for an answer when it comes to me. 'Especially when come to me' - She specifically mentioned. Hence, we went to City of Light - Clarke, Jake and I. It was great fun and appeared to be a success in improving all relationships. Clarke and Jake shared information and I learned a lot about Clarke's life. It was important background for the difficult but essential task of developing a high level of empathy for one person in the world. 

////

After much negotiation and discussion, Clarke and I decided to fly to Ark City, where being weird is acceptable. That is simplification of the rationale - in reality what was important for me was to be able to make a new start with my new skills, new approach and new partner, without being held back by others' perceptions of me - perceptions that I had not only deserved but encouraged. 

Here in Ark City, I am working in the Department of History and Science at Barracks University, and Clarke is in the first year of the Doctor of Medicine programme. I am contributing to Tristan's research project remotely, as he insisted on it as a condition of providing funding. I consider it a form of moral payback for using the university's equipment for the Father Project. 

We have an apartment in Polis Street - what a coincidence - not far from the Vies, whom we visit regularly. The basement interrogation is now a story that Vincent and I both tell on social occasions. 

We are considering reproducing (or, as I would say in a social encounter 'having children') although the possibility of Clarke and I reproducing was zero to none. We had opt for adoption. In order to prepare for this possibility, we had visited several orphanage and encountered numerous children. Clarke has even ceased smoking and we have reduced our alcohol intake but to only special occasions - most especially when our child finally arrived. Fortunately we have numerous other activities to distract us from these addictive behaviors. Clarke and I work in a cocktail bar together three times a week. It is exhausting at times, but social and fun, and supplements my academic salary. 

We listen to music. I have revised my approach with the Eagles, and am no longer trying to follow individual notes. It is more successful, especially with my night with Barry Manilow. Clarke and I had an argument about that specific night until she realized that I was talking about a singer. She was embarrassed. 

I cook, but reserve the meals of the Standardized Meal System for dinner parties. 

We are officially married. Although I had performed the romantic ritual with the ring, Clarke still portrays a stun expression when we officially 'hitched' - as she would say it. The term 'wife' in the Wife Project had always meant 'female life partner'. But she decided that she should have 'one relationship in my life that was what it was supposed to be'. The included monogamy and permanence. An excellent outcome. 

I am able to hug Clarke. This was the issue that caused me the most fear after she agreed to live with me. I generally find body contact unpleasant, but sex is an obvious exception. Sex solved the body contact problem. We are now also able to hug without having sex, which is obviously convenient at times. 

Once a week, in order to deal with the demands of living with another person, I spend an evening in therapy. This is a small joke: my 'therapist' is Steve and I provided reciprocal services to him. Steve is also married and considering that I am supposedly wired differently, our challenges are surprisingly similar. He sometimes brings male friends and colleagues from work, where he is an air condition engineer. We are all Grounders fans. 

For some time, Clarke did not mention the Father project. I concluded this as an improvement in the relationship with Jacky Boy and the distraction of other activities. But, in the background, I was processing some new information. 

At the wedding, Dr. Quint, the first person we had tested, asked to speak with me in private. 

"There's something you should know," he said. "About Clarke's father." 

It seemed entirely plausible that Clarke's mother's closest friend from medical school would know that answer. Perhaps we had only needed to ask. But Quint was referring to something else. He pointed to Kane. 

"Marcus' been a bit of a screw-up with Clarke. He neither here nor there. Always out in a daze." 

So it wasn't only Clarke who's seeing Kane as an incompetent parent. 

"You know about the car accident?" 

I nodded, although I had no idea about the information. 

Clarke had made it clear that she didn't want to discuss it. 

"Abby was driving because Kane had been drinking." 

I deduced that Kane was in the car. 

"Kane got out, with a broken hip bone and right arm, and pulled Clarke out." Quint paused and looked at me. "He pulled Clarke out first." 

This was truly an awful scenario, but as a person with great knowledge of Science, my immediate thought was 'of couse'. Kane's behavior, in pain and under extreme pressure, would surely have been instinctual. Such life-and-death scenario often happens in animal kingdom and such behavior of Kane was in line with theory and experimental results. 

While Kane had often been revisiting this memory in his mind, his feelings for Clarke seemed to be heavily affected by it. His actions were consistent with the primitive drive to protect the carrier of his genes. 

But an error occurred, as Clarke is not his biological daughter, such instincts would not have been applicable. I spent some time reflecting on this explanations for his behavior. I did not share my thoughts or the hypothesis I formed. 

Later, Jacky Boy approached me and silently stood beside me for a minute. His eyes were directed to Clarke who was dancing with her friends. 

"Marcus saved Clarke from the accident," I said. 

"I know," He said. "What made you think I felt so low about myself." 

"You have to stop saying that," the hypocrisy of myself was talking now. "You've gained Clarke's affection. Focus on rekindling your relationship with Clarke and do not dwell from the past." 

Jake turned to me. "Clarke's lucky to have someone like you." 

I beg the differ. 

_"Hey."_

It was Clarke. She approached Jake. "Would you like to dance,  _dad_?" The hint of unsure was obvious. She wasn't sure how will Jake react for calling him 'dad' for the first time. Jake smiles and I knew Clarke got what she wanted. 

"Of course, Clarke." 

Soon Marcus approached me and we watched he father - daughter dance. 

"She's happy," I said. 

He nodded and sighs. "All is done." 

"Thank you." 

Marcus gave me a questioning look. "For taking care of Clarke. For everything you've done for her." Pushing aside the negative comments about Kane, he too deserved to be praised. 

Marcus placed his hand on my shoulder and nodded. "Thank you too Lexa. All these years I always thought that I've been a horrible father to Clarke. I love her so much, as much as I love Abby. But things-... Just gets in the way. And I knew I've been horrible too. I understand why's Clarke acting as she was. With Jake around, I wish she'll be better than feeling bad for herself being abandoned." 

"You didn't abandoned her." 

He shakes his head. "I can never. That miserable day. I've lost the love my life. But with Clarke with me, it feels like Abby gave me something to hold on to. Clarke is very precious, Lexa. So please take good care of her." 

I nodded firmly. "I will."

That wedding was a memorable event. Clarke was indeed happy and I was happy. All of the people that we cared for was there. Even Raven was a changed woman. Raven and Octavia seemed to find a common ground - they've worked out their differences and Octavia finally let go of her unwavering love for Raven. Raven was obviously stunned but soon after, realized how she felt. She was working hard to let Octavia see that she's a changed woman and will do whatever it takes to make Octavia say 'yes'. The map was no longer on her wall when I submit my resignation to Jaha. I certainly do hope everything's will go according to plan. 

It was after my history lecture did I found myself looking at the DNA sample of the bloody singlet. I cut a small portion of the cloth, poured over the reagent, and let it sit for a few minutes. As I watched the fabric in the clear solution, and mentally reviewed the Father Project, I became more and more confident in my prediction. I decided that Clarke should join me for this result, regardless of whether the confession and confrontation was done. I texted her. She was on the campus and arrived a few minutes later. She immediately realized what I was doing. 

I put the processed the sample in the machine, and waited while the analysis proceeded. We watched the computer screen together until the result came up. After all the blood-collecting, cheek-swabbing, cocktail-shaking, wall-climbing, glass-collecting, flying, driving, shouting, proposal-writing, urine-swiping, cup-stealing, toothbrush-stealing, fork-swiping, tissue-retrieving, lie-detecting, hairbrush-cleaning and tear-wiping, we had a match. 

Clarke had wanted to know who her biological father was. Her mother had known the identity of the man she had sex with, perhaps only once, on an occasion of emotional-driven rule-breaking, to remain a secret forever. I could now fulfill both of their wishes. 

I showed her the remains of the blood-stained singlet from Jacky Boy's office/gym with the sample square cut out of it. There would no need to test the handkerchief that had wiped Mrs. Gillmer's tears. 

Ultimately, the entire father problem was caused by Raven. She almost certainly taught the medical students an oversimplified model of the inheritance of common traits. If Clarke's mother had known that eye color was not a reliable indicator of paternity, and organised a DNA test to confirm her suspicions, there would have been no Father Project, no Dress Code Disaster, no Great Cocktail Night, no Ark City Adventure, no Reform Lexa Project - and No Clarke Project. Had it not been for this unscheduled series of events, Clarke and I would not have fallen in love. And I would still be eating Salmon Carbonara every Tuesday night. 

Incredible.

**Author's Note:**

> THE WIFE PROJECT!!! 
> 
> Let me know what you guys think of the story. Should I continue? Yay? or nay? Hit the comment section! Hit those kudos! 
> 
> Cheers!


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